Ex  Libris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


JOOST  AYELI]>^GH. 


BY   MAARTEN    MAARTENS. 


THE  GREATER   GLORY. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  gilt,  $1.50. 

"It  would  take  several  ccjlumns  to  give  any  adequate 
idea  of  the  superb  way  in  which  the  Dutch  novelist  has  de- 
veloped his  theme  and  wrought  out  one  of  the  most  im- 
pressive stories  of  the  period.  ...  It  belongs  to  the  small 
class  of  novels  of  the  period  which  one  can  not  afford  to 
neglect." — San  l'ra7icisco  Chronicle. 

"  Maarten  Maartens  in  '  The  Greater  Glory  '  has  even 
eclipsed  his  fine  performance  in  the  writing  of  '  God's  Fool.' 
This  new  work  deals  with  high  life  in  Holland,  and  the 
Dutch  master  has  portrayed  it  with  the  touch  of  true  genius. 
The  story  is  full  of  color  and  of  dramatic  situations  deli- 
cately wrought  out." — Philadelphia  Press. 

GOD'S   FOOL. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  gilt,  $1.50. 

"Throughout  there  is  an  epigrammatic  force  which 
would  make  palatable  a  less  interesting  story  of  human 
lives  or  one  less  deftly  told." — London  Saturday  Review. 

"  A  remarkable  work." — New  York  Times. 

"  The  story  is  wonderfully  brilliart.  .  .  .  The  interest 
never  lags ;  the  style  is  realistic  and  intense  ;  and  there  is  a 
constantly  underlying  current  of  subtle  humor.  ...  It  is, 
in  short,  a  book  which  no  student  of  modern  literature 
should  fail  to  read." — Boston  Times. 

JOOST  AVELINGH. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  gilt,  $1.50. 

"A  book  by  a  man  who,  in  addition  to  mere  talent,  has 
in  him  a  vein  of  genuine  genius." — London  Academy. 

"A  novel  of  a  very  high  type  At  once  strongly  re- 
alistic and  powerfully  idealistic." — London  Literary 
Iforld.  

New  York  :    D.   APPLETON   &   CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


JOOST   AVELINGH 


a  Dutcb  Stor^ 


BY 

MAARTEN     MAARTENS 

AUTHOR    OH    god's    FOOL 


NEW    YORK 

D.    AP  PL  ETON    AND    COMPANY 

1894. 


PR 


CONTENTS, 


PAOE 

Introduction «C 

Paet  I. — Before. 

CHAPTEE 

I. — "A  Strap  fnder  his  Heart" 11 

II.— "Santa  Claus" 15 

m. — Dramatis  Persons 21 

IT. JOOST    STUDIES    MEDICINE 35 

v.— The  Ice-Partt 42 

VI. — Weighed  in  the  Balance 55 

Vll.— TnE  Claims  of  Rank 60 

Vlll. — The  Claims  of  Love C6 

IX. — "Found  wanting" 71 

X. — Madame  de  Montelimart V9 

XI. — The  Cup  flows  over ,        .89 

Part  ii. — After. 

XII.— Charity ,        .     97 

XIII. — Looks  back 107 

XIV. — Money-Making  made  easy 112 

XV.— "Are   YOU   ILL,   AVELINGH?"  .  .  „  .  .  .120 

XVI. — The  Jonker's  Legacy 131 

XVII. — Under  the  Surface 13S 

XVIII. — Murder  will  out         .        .        ,        o        «        •        •        •  144 
A 


"'-^  r^  ,f^ 


JOOST  AVELINGH. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.— "  Wanted  " 157 

XX. — Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name 168 

XXL— Jan  Louentz 174 

XXII.— The  Trial 184 

XXIII.— The  TuRNiNG-PoiNT 199 

XXIV. — Das  Ewig  Weibliche  zieht  uns  hinan         .        .        .  205 

XXV.— The  Verdict 217 

XXVI. — After  the  Verdict 218 

XXVII. — Avelingh  vs.  Avelingh 223 

XXVIII. — Liberty  lost  and  regained 233 

XXIX.— A  "  Lettre  de  Faire  Part  " 238 

XXX. — Doctor  Avelingh's  Theory 244 

XXXI. — Joost's  Labors  for  others  bear  Frcit  for  himself     .  250 

XXXII. — Interviewing  the  Candidate 259 

XXXIII. — More  about  the  mad  Countess     .        .        .        .        .  264 

XXXIV. — Blindfold  not  Love,  if  Love  be  blind         .        .        .  272 

XXXV.— The  Election 278 

XXXVI. JoOST    SURRENDERS 289 

XXXVII.— "Could  WE  DO  ELSE?" 296 

XXXVIII.— What  should  it  profit  a  Man? 298 

XXXIX. JoOST    MEETS    VAN    ASVELD    FOR    THE    LAST    TIME  .  .    305 

XL. — The  Confession 310 

XLL— The  World's  Farewell  to  Joost  Avelingh         .        ,317 


JOOST  AYELII^GH. 


INTRODUCTION. 

It  had  stopped  raining. 

Had  it  not  stopped  raining?  The  grumpy  old  fellow 
who  keeps  the  small  grocery  store  on  the  Hoester  road  crept 
to  his  door  and  looked  out.  You  know  the  little  shop,  if 
you  know  the  neighborhood  at  all,  the  low  house  with  the 
lollipop  jars  in  its  square-paned  window.  The  old  grocer 
stood  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand  to  see  better,  as  men 
will  do  in  excess  of  darkness — strangely  enough — as  well  as 
in  excess  of  light.-  He  was  asking  himself  for  the  twentieth 
time  that  evening  whether  it  was  worth  his  while  to  cross 
the  shining,  sli])pery  road  and  have  his  customary  chat  with 
his  friend,  the  innkeeper  opposite. 

It  was  not  so  dark  but  that  he  could  see  the  long, 
straight  highway  vaguely  stretching  away  on  both  sides  in  a 
shimmer  of  steaming  wet  beneath  the  glittering  drip,  drip 
of  its  lines  of  trees.  In  fact,  the  light  was  coming  through 
more  and  more  every  minute.  High  up  among  the  clouds 
the  wind  was  busy  at  his  lace-weaving,  lifting  and  spreading 
and  intertangling  puffs  of  black  and  white  and  gray  in  an 
ever  thinner  veil,  for  the  moon  to  look  through.  And  she, 
as  if  to  bid  him  continue,  was  sending  forth  feeble  rays  that 
crept  slowly  down  upon  the  little  cluster  of  some  half-a- 
dozen  cottages  wliicli  lie  huddled — like  a  knot  in  a  rope — 


6  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

halfway  down  the  long,  lonely  road  between  Heist  and 
Hoest.  Decidedly,  the  clouds  must  have  stopped  raining, 
even  if  the  trees  had  not. 

The  Baas  came  to  the  conclusion  that  crossing  might  be 
worth  his  while.  Whether  it  was  a  craving  for  the  inn- 
keeper's company,  or  for  his  customary  steaming  "  night- 
cap," that  influenced  his  decision,  it  were  needless,  and  per- 
hajis  invidious,  to  inquire.  He  toddled  through  the  mud 
toward  the  dim  light  over  the  way. 

"  Innkeeper "  is,  in  fact,  although  it  has  been  used 
already,  too  imposing  a  word  to  apply  to  old  Wurmers. 
The  cottage  opposite,  with  one  narrow  window  beside  the 
door,  and  one  square  window  over  it,  is  the  smallest  even  of 
small  Dutch  public-houses.  A  broad  hoop,  painted  a  bright 
green,  with  "  Tappery,  Slytery "  on  it  in  golden  letters, 
stands  out  above  the  entrance,  and  in  the  window  a  solitary 
card,  the  advertisement  of  a  Bavarian  Brewery,  hangs  before 
a  blue  wire-work  screen.  Within,  all  is  stale  smoke  and 
bitters.  A  low  box  of  a  room,  with  a  bar,  a  number  of 
shelves  full  of  bottles,  a  square  deal  table  and  two  or  three 
wicker  chairs.  The  grocer  pushed  open  the  door;  the 
master  of  the  house  came  shambling  forward.  He  was  old, 
like  the  other  man,  with  faded  red  hair,  and  he  walked 
lame. 

"  A  bad  night,"  he  said,  "  no  customers." 

"So  much  the  better  for  the  Temperance  people," 
chuckled  the  grocer.  "  There's  a  meeting  down  at  Heist 
to-night.  Ha !  Ha !  I  know  what  they  say :  '  God  made 
water  and  fire,  and  the  devil  brewed  fire-water  out  of 
them.' " 

"  God  made  all  things,''  said  the  other  piously ;  he  was 
a  pious  publican,  a  Publican  and  a  Pharisee,  a  type  not  un- 
known in  Holland — nor  elsewhere,  for  the  matter  of  that. 

"  Even  gin  ?  "  asked  the  grocer,  with  a  queer  grin,  as  he 
took  the  glass  Baas  Wurmers  held  out  to  him. 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

"Gin  more  than  most  things,"  replied  the  republican 
sententiously.  "At  the  marriage-feast  of  Cana,  a  village 
where  it  appears  there  were  not  enough  wineshops — " 

But  the  devil's  reasoning  on  the  devil's  behalf  was  sud- 
denly cut  short.  The  noise  of  advancing  wheels,  to  which 
both  old  cronies  had  been  lending  a  vague  attention  during 
the  last  few  seconds,  stopped  abruptly  outside.  A  rough 
voice  was  heard  calling  and  swearing.  Both  men  hurried 
to  the  door  as  fast  as  their  shaky  legs  could  carry  them. 

A  one-horse  chaise  was  drawn  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  its  lamps  flashing  in  broad  sweeps  over  the  mud  and 
dimly  revealing  under  the  hood  the  figures  of  two  men,  a 
younger  one  driving,  and  an  older  one  at  his  side. 

It  was  the  older  man  who  had  cried  out,  and  he  now  re- 
peated his  demand,  in  the  same  loud,  blustering  voice. 

"  A  borrel,"  (dram),  he  shouted,  "  a  borrel,  you  damned 
old  stupid  !  What  else  should  a  man  stop  for  at  your  hole 
of  a  house  on  such  a  damned  cold  night  as  this  ?  " 

The  younger  man  sat  silent.  Behind,  in  the  open  dickey, 
was  a  servant,  half-asleep. 

The  gin  was  Brought  without  a  word  of  greeting.  Free 
Dutch  burghers  do  not  like  being  sworn  at.  It  was  gulped 
down  amid  a  multiplicity  of  oaths,  the  last  at  the  driver  for 
tarrying ;  and  then  the  carriage  dashed  off  again  into  the 
darkness,  its  lights  playing  "  catch  me  and  kiss  me  "  with 
the  few  moonbeams  that  lingered  among  the  trees. 

The  two  men  stood  watching  it  out  of  sight.  "  Those 
are  not  going  to  the  Temperance  meeting,"  said  the  tavern- 
keeper. 

"  Poor  young  fellow,"  muttered  the  grumj^y  old  grocer. 
And  they  wnet  in. 

The  chaise  passed  swiftly  down  the  road,  hoof  and  wheels 
plashing  straight  through  big  and  little  puddles.  Conver- 
sation there  was  none  between  the  two  occupants,  unless  an 


8  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

occasional  muttered  oatli  from  the  one,  or  an  angry  whip- 
cut  from  the  other,  can  claim  the  dignity  of  that  name,  A 
good  deal  of  intercourse,  doubtless,  may  be  kept  up  by  such 
intermittent  signs  as  these. 

The  younger  man  sat  silent,  with  a  white  face  and  tight- 
ly compressed  lips,  holding  the  reins  firmly,  and  driving 
fast,  fast. 

The  older  one,  whose  wrathful  ejaculations  had  been 
gradually  dying  away  in  longer  intervals,  suddenly  shook 
himself  together  and  burst  into  a  torrent  of  meaningless 
invective.  His  companion  shrank  slightly  away,  against 
the  farther  side  of  the  hood,  but  answered  never  a  word. 

And  then,  a  few  minutes  later,  the  angry  man  foamed 
over,  as  it  were,  bubbling  and  spluttering  and  choking,  till 
he  fell  back  in  a  heap,  limp,  clumsy,  huddled  up,  his  voice 
lost  in  a  sudden  whisper,  a  gasp — then  a  prolonged  gurgle, 
broken  once  or  twice  by  a  stronger  effort,  like  a  groan. 

The  younger  man  sat  silent,  holding  the  reins  firmly,  and 
driving  fast,  fast. 

And  so  they  passed  on  swiftly  between  the  dripping  trees. 
The  lights  of  Heist  were  standing  out  and  growing  larger 
every  moment.  The  figure  in  the  corner  stopped  its  gurg- 
ling, gave  a  faint  gasp,  then  another — and  was  still. 

The  chaise  rolled  along  the  road  for  some  minutes  long- 
er, then  jolted  over  rough  pavingstones,  between  straggling 
oil-lamps.  Suddenly  the  still,  motionless  figure  fell  for- 
ward ;  the  young  man  sat  silent,  and  drove  on. 

At  last,  with  a  clash  that  dragged  the  horse  down  on  its 
hindlegs  and  sent  flakes  of  mud  flying  up  over  both  men 
and  right  back  into  the  hood,  the  chaise  stopped.  Without 
heeding  his  reins,  the  driver  jumped  out  and  ran  round  to 
a  house-door.  He  rang  a  furious  peal  that  seemed  to  wake 
the  servant  in  the  dickey,  who  pulled  himself  together  and 
tumbled  out. 

The  door  was  thrown  open ;  there  was  light  in  the  hall, 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

streaming  out  to  meet  the  carriage-lamps.  A  maid-servant 
had  come  forward,  and,  immediately  after  her,  a  little  old 
gentleman  in  black. 

"Is  the  Notary  in?"  said  the  young  man  in  a  dead 
voice;  and  the  little  old  gentleman  in  black  immediately 
cried  back  from  the  hall : 

"  Why,  you  see  that  he  is ! " 

"  There's  something  wrong,  I  believe,"  the  other  went 
on  hurriedly,  "we  were  coming  to  see  you.  He — "  he 
pointed  wjth  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder — "  he  is  ill,  I  fea 
— fancy.     He — I  don't  quite  know." 

The  Notary  hurried  to  the  chaise.  He  touched  the  man 
lying  in  it,  lying  half  off  the  seat,  with  his  body  falling  for- 
ward over  his  knees.  He  shook  him  gently  at  first  and 
called  to  him  in  a  voice  growing  shriller  and  more  shaky 
every  moment,  then  turned  and  impatiently  summoned  the 
young  driver,  motionless  under  the  hall-lamp, — turned  again 
and  addressed  the  groom,  awake  now  and  curious  at  the 
horse's  head. 

Together  lawyer  and  man-servant  dragged  the  heavy,  in- 
sensible body  down  out  of  the  chaise,  and  laid  it,  all  bespat- 
tered with  mud  as  it  was,  on  the  marble  floor  of  the  bare 
little  hall.  They  laid  it  down  against  the  wall ;  where  the 
maid  no  sooner  saw  it,  motionless,  with  purple  face  and  star- 
ing eyes,  than  she  pressed  her  hand  against  her  bosom  and 
went  off  into  a  series  of  smart  little  screams,  a  tribute  she 
considered  she  owed  to  her  feelings.  The  young  man  stood 
as  if  struck  to  stone,  with  his  fists  clenched  at  his  side.  He 
did  not  offer  to  help  the  Notary  who,  rapidly  taking  the 
matter  into  his  own  hands,  undid  a  red  silk  comforter  tied 
tightly  round  the  sick  man's  throat  and,  opening  his  under- 
clothes, laid  a  more  or  less  steady  hand  on  tlie  heart.  While 
doing  so,  lie  cast  one  or  two  quick,  cross  glances  at  the 
young  man  under  the  lamp.  "  How  white  he  looks ! "  he 
thought,  "  and  how  strangely  he  presses  his  teeth  together !  I 


IQ  JOOST  AVELINGII. 

should  not  have  thought  him  such  a  coward.  For  it  can't 
be  his  love  for  the  old  man  that  makes  him  look  like  that." 

The  subject  of  these  considerations  watched  every  move- 
ment eagerly.  The  maid  sat  down  in  a  heap  on  the  stairs, 
and  moaned,  and  rocked  herself.  The  Notary,  running 
for  some  brandy,  stumbled  over  her,  and  abused  her  in  pass- 
ing. The  groom  stood  staring  sheepishly;  no  one  offered 
any  assistance.  It  was  the  Notary  who  chafed  the  numb 
hands  and  forehead  and  poured  a  few  drops  down  the  throat 
and  did  a  number  of  useless,  and  even  of  unwise  things, 
from  which  he  at  last  stood  up,  panting,  despairing. 

The  young  man  broke  the  painful  silence. 

"  He  is  ill,"  he  said  with  the  same  toneless  voice  he  had 
spoken  in  before. 

"  111 !  "  cried  the  Notary  impatiently.  "  111 !  He  is 
dead." 

The  young  man  fell  down  on  his  knees  and  burst  into  a 
passion  of  weeping.  "  God  forgive  me,"  he  cried,  "  I  would 
give  the  world  it  were  not  so ! " 


PAET  I. 
BEFORE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

"  A    STEAP   UNDEK   HIS   HEART." 

"  And  tliis,"  said  Agatha,  as  she  tied  a  bow  over  one  of 
many  parcels,  "is  for  Joost."* 

"  Poor  Joost ! "  cried  a  cliorus  of  voices.  And  then  they 
all  laughed. 

The  ladies  of  the  family  were  assembled  round  a  table  in 
the  big  livi»g-room — the  home-room,  as  we  say  in  Holland 
— portly,  self-satisfied  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  and  her  three  un- 
married daughters,  Agatha,  Anna,  and  Elisabeth,  or  rather, 
to  designate  them  in  the  euphonious  accents  of  their  native 
tongue,  Agapiet,  Annemie  and  Bettekoo. 

It  was  the  eve  of  Santa  Claus — the  5th  of  December, 
the  most  important  social  event  of  the  year.  In  an  hour 
or  so  Mevrouw  van  Ilessel's  married  daughter  would  arrive 
with  her  husband  the  secretary  and  their  three  young  chil- 
dren, and  then  the  gentlemen  would  come  in  from  the 
smoking-room,  and  there  would  be  great  goings-on  round 
that  big  table  laden  with  presents. 

Joost  was  coming  too.     "  Oh  yes,  of  course ;  ask  Joost," 

*  Pronounce  "  Yoost "  with  a  "  y  "  us  in  yoke,  not  joke. 


12  JOOST  AVELINGII. 

had  said  good-natured  Mynheer  van  Hessel,  as  he  stood  with 
his  hand  on  the  door-knob  a  day  or  two  ago. 

"  But  Santa  Clans  is  a  family  festival,"  expostulated 
Mevrouw,  "  and  Joost  is  not  one  of  the  family." 

"  Conceidus^''  began  Mynheer,  very  slowly  and  impress- 
ively, '•'•'pro  nato  liabetur  quotiescunque  cle  ems  commotio 
agitui\  so  you  see,  my  dear,  Joost  has  a  right  to  come. 
Send  him  an  invitation,  Agapiet,"  and  he  opened  the  door 
and  closed  it  behind  him  with  wonderful  rapidity. 

Mynheer  von  Ilessel  knew  that  he  seldom  got  his  own 
way  at  home ;  he  did  not  mind  that  as  a  rule,  but  he  had 
also  learned  long  ago  by  experience  that  his  only  chance  of 
gaining  respect  occasionally  lay  in  puzzling  his  far  cleverer 
and  more  imperious  wife.  He  remembered  very  little  Latin 
out  of  his  college  days,  but  that  little  not  infrequently  came 
in  useful. 

"  After  all,"  said  Madame,  "  men  have  far  more  oppor- 
tunities than  we."  She  admired  what  she  considered  her 
husband's  learning,  while  she  somewhat  despised  his  want 
of  sense.  But  in  reality  Burgomaster  van  Hessel  was  a  sen- 
sible man,  of  very  slender  intellectual  acquirements,  with  a 
turn  for  what  he  considered  wit,  and  his  friends  tomfoolery. 
His  intellectual  acquirements,  by-the-by,  were  the  only  slen- 
der thing  about  him. 

So  his  daughter  wrote  her  note,  and  received  a  favorable 
answer.  "  And  this,"  she  said,  with  her  hand  on  a  little 
brown  paper  bundle,  "  is  for  Joost." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  mother  and  sisters,  in  a  breath. 

Agatha  smiled,  blushed,  looked  at  her  parcel,  looked  at 
them,  twirled  it  in  her  fingers,  and  laid  it  down  again. 

"  It  is  something  new,"  she  said,  hesitatingly.  "  At  least, 
you  never  hear  of  it  here.     But  I  thought — " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  Bettekoo,  who  was  always  impa- 
tient. 

"  You   know,  I   read  about    them   in    That  Charming 


"A  STRAP   UNDER  HIS   UEART."  13 

Curate.  It  appears  that  in  England  they  are  quite  a  cus- 
tomary present  to  gentlemen,  and  so  useful." 

"  But  ivhat  are  they  ?  "  almost  screamed  Bettekoo. 

"  A  i^air  of  embroidered  braces." 

"  Embroidered  braces,"  said  Annemie,  the  beauty,  slowly 
and  sneeringly.     "  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing?  " 

Agatha  was  not  a  beauty ;  she  was  only  beautiful.  At 
least,  so  all  the  good  people  thought. 

A  fair-haired,  fair-cheeked  maiden  of  nineteen  summers, 
with  graceful,  gentle  features  and  full  blue  eyes  that  seemed 
to  say:  "Love  me,  for  I  love  others  and  deserve  to  be 
loved." 

"  Poor  Joost,"  she  said,  "  I  thought  it  would  be  quite  a 
new  kind  of  thing  to  give  him,  and  he  wants,  as  I  shall  tell 
him,  a  strap  under  his  heart."  * 

"  But  braces,"  cried  Bettekoo,  "  Oh,  Agapiet,  to  a  gentle- 
man ! " 

"  We  ought  not  to  know  they  wear  them,"  remarked  the 
beauty,  languidly.  "  Fancy,  supposing  they  were  to  begin 
giving  us  stays  !  " 

"  It  is  Bot  the  same  thing  at  all,"  cried  Agatha,  hotly. 
"In  England  everybody  gives  everybody  else  embroidered 
braces.  I  mean  all  the  gentlemen ;  no,  all  the  ladies,  I  mean. 
And  the  English  are  a  very  proper  nation." 

"  I  consider  it  an  extremely  improper  and  indelicate  se- 
lection," said  Mevrouw  van  Hessel.  "No  Dutch  maiden 
who  respects  her  feelings  would  allude  to  any  such  article  in 
the  presence  of  strangers.  Nor  can  I  allow  any  daughter  of 
mine  to  give  anything  of  the  kind  to  a — a  man." 

By  this  time  Agatha's  cheeks  were  crimson.  She  rue- 
fully fingered  her  little  parcel ;  and  the  red  rosebuds  over 
which  Siie  had  spent  so  many  an  hour,  seemed  to  burn  their 
way  up  through  the  pajier  and  smart  in  her  very  eyes.     She 

*  Dutch  idiom. 


J  4  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

knew  that  it  was  no  use  trying  to  reason  with  her  mother, 
who  habitually  found  all  opinions  unreasonable  but  her  own. 
"  So  few  people  can  argue,"  said  Me\Touw  van  Hessel,  mean- 
ing that,  as  a  rule,  so  few  peojjle  agreed  with  her. 

"  But  I  shall  have  nothing  to  give  Joost !  "  cried  poor 
Agatha. 

Her  father,  entering  at  the  moment,  caught  the  words. 
"  Nothing  for  Joost  ?  "  he  asked,  "  How  is  that  ?  " 

"  Agatha  should  have  prepared  a  more  appropriate 
gift,"  answered  Mevrouw.  "  Some  articles  are  not  fit 
to  be  mentioned,  and  some  subjects  not  fit  to  be  dis- 
cussed." 

Agatha  held  out  her  parcel  with  a  glance  of  mingled 
mirth  and  misery,  and  Mynheer  van  Hessel  extracted  the 
objectionable  braces.     He  looked  comically  grave. 

"  They  are  very  pretty,"  he  said,  "  and—  No ;  give  them 
to  him  in  a  year  or  two." 

"  And  why  in  a  year  or  two  ?  "  queried  Madame. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  continued  Monsieur,  "  that  you  did  not 
rather  choose  slippers,  Agapiet.  That  would  have  been 
harmless,  and  an  appropriate  emblem  !  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  cut  in  his  spouse, — which 
was  true ;  she  rarely  understood  his  smallest  jokes.  "-  There 
is  no  reason  why  Agatha  should  give  slippers,  or  anything 
else,  to  Joost.  I  have  got  something  for  him,  and  so  have 
the  other  girls,  and  Kees.  Agatha  is  growing  too  old  for 
that  sort  of  thing.  And  besides,  it  is  her  own  fault,  surely, 
but  girls  are  so  unreasonable." 

"  In  England—"  began  Agatha. 

"  In  England  !  We  are  not  in  England,  thank  Heaven," 
snapped  Mevrouw,  who  was  a  good  woman,  but  did  not  like 
being  bothered. 

"  In  England,"  said  Mynheer,  "  girls  talk  of  '  inexpressi- 
bles '  and  yet  embroider  braces.  In  England  the  highest 
honors  are  a  garter  and  a  bath.     Never  mind ;  tell  him  that, 


"SANTA  CLAUS."  15 

next  year,  you  will  give  him  the  best  present  he  can  get, 
Agapiet." 

"  But  then  I  have  got  nothing  for  this  evening,"  said 
Agapiet. 


CHAPTER  II. 


"SANTA    CLAUS." 


An  hour  or  two  later  the  big  room  was  lighted  up,  and 
full  of  movement  and  conversation.  A  buzz  of  excitement 
round  a  table  laden  with  parcels,  large  and  small,  some  un- 
wieldy, some  fantastic :  flower-pots,  cigar-boxes,  pails  of 
water,  j)iles  of  plates.  It  is  the  custom  in  Holland  to  send 
these  Santa  Claus  presents,  done  up  in  so-called  "  surprises," 
no  gift  being  in  reality  what  it  seems  at  the  first  moment. 
A  book  is  a  box.  A  cigar-case  contains  six  real  cigars  and 
one  imitation  one  with  a  breast-pin  inside  it.  A  plate  full 
of  food  has  a  false  bottom ;  an  oyster  hides  pearl  ear-drops ; 
a  dead  mouse  in  a  trap  is  caught  with  its  neck  in  a  diamond 
ring.  Elaborate  imitations  of  the  most  various  articles  are 
spread  out  in  the  shops,  costing  as  much  in  themselves  as 
many  a  handsome  present ;  but  most  families  prefer  to  spend 
their  ingenuity — and  not  their  half-pence — in  the  fashion- 
ing of  their  own  surprises,  often  from  odds  and  ends,  and 
often  from  household  articles  "  which  please  return,"  all 
little  incidents  of  the  current  year,  individual  peculiarities 
and  family  traditions,  being  taken  into  due  account.  Nor 
are  ill-natured  jokes  altogether  unknown  ;  many  a  learned 
professor  or  pompous  official  has  been  unpleasantly  reminded 
of  his  idiosyncrasies  on  the  Eve  of  Santa  Claus. 

Years  have  robbed  the  feast  of  much  of  its  simplicity. 
There  is  no  limit   nowadays  to  the  present-sending  from 


10  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

liouse  to  liouse,  and  the  things  themselves  have  grown  cost- 
lier and  costlier,  till  the  whole  custom  threatens  to  become 
a  nuisance.  The  thrifty  Dutchman,  who  rarely  spends  a 
penny  on  ornament  of  any  kind  all  the  year  round,  over- 
leaps all  bounds  at  "  Sin  terklaas  "-tide.  And  feasting — 
gorging,  guzzling — plays,  alas,  the  most  important  role  of 
all ;  sugar — enough  to  nauseate  a  Polyphemus — being  un- 
fortunately the  chief  ingredient.  Great  blocks  and  rounds 
of  sugar  (with  a  little  fruit  flavoring) ;  chocolate  letters,  half- 
a-yard  long  and  a  couple  of  inches  thick;  almond-paste 
letters,  still  larger;  ginger-bread  dolls,  weighing  many 
pounds  of  unwholesome  sweetness  —  mountains  of  every 
kind  of  rich  foreign  confectionery  are  spread  out  and  piled 
up  in  lines  of  shops,  a  very  Paradise  Eow  for  the  children. 
All  Holland  turns  out  into  the  streets,  and  comes  home 
laden  with  parcels.  All  Uolland  is  apt  to  eat  itself  sick, 
and  the  doctors  hold  their  feast-day  on  the  morrow.  If  it 
may  be  truly  said  that  to  the  intelligent  foreigner  (with  the 
pictorials  as  his  guide-books)  Christmas  in  England  is  all 
beef  and  plum-pudding,  plus  an  occasional  carol  for  the 
sake  of  old  associations,  it  is  no  less  certain  that  Santa 
Clans  in  Holland  is  all  sugar-cake  and  gingerbread,  but 
then,  it  must  be  added,  in  common  fairness,  that  the  latter 
is  not,  and  does  not  pretend  to  be,  a  religious  festival  from 
the  first. 

The  van  Hessels  were  simple,  old-fashioned  people,  but 
they  had  a  large  circle  of  friends.  So  their  door-bell  kept 
ringing  ceaslessly  on  that  important  evening,  and  after  each 
ring  a  maid-servant  would  come  running  in  with  a  parcel,  a 
stiff  cap  and  a  beaming  face.  Then  there  were  shouts  and 
cries  and  questions.  For  whom  is  it  ?  From  whom  is  it  ? 
the  latter  question  often  remaining  unanswered,  for  it  is  an 
essential  rule  of  the  proceedings  that  all  presents  are  from 
"  Santa  Clans."     The  festival  is  originally  a  children's  one. 


"SANTA  CLAUS."  17 

and  the  good  bishop,  the  great  lover  of  children,  rides  round 
with  his  African  servants  at  night,  passing  down  all  the 
chimneys,  as  you  can  gee  for  yourself,  if  you  look  into  the 
little  boots  at  daybreak.  There  is  a  dreadful  tradition  that 
he  asks  the  parents  if  he  must  leave  presents  or  a  rod  ?  It 
is  often  mentioned  during  the  year,  but  it  would  appear 
that  no  Dutch  father  has  ever  considered  his  own  children 
so  very,  very  naughty — whatever  he  might  have  advised  if 
consulted  about  neighhor''s  "  Jacky  " — or  else,  judging  by 
the  exemption  of  some  little  wretches,  St.  Nicholas  can  not 
draw  the  line  much  under  parricide. 

But  Mevi-ouw  van  Hessel's  grand-children  —  the  little 
Verrooy's — though  they  too  had  been  threatened  with  the 
rod  at  intervals  lately,  had  never  really  deserved  it.  The 
two  youngest  still  firmly  believed  in  Santa  Clans,  the  eldest 
— six,  and  "  no  longer  a  child  " — was  beginning  to  waver 
and  confuse  him  with  her  father.  Her  uncle  Kees's  reiter- 
ated assertion  that  the  bishoj)  was  coming  presently,  that 
she  would  really — now  really,  you  know — see  him  herself, 
was  nevertheless  beginning  to  tell  upon  her.  In  the  mean- 
time all  three  children,  with  sparkling  eyes  and  burning 
cheeks,  were  skipping  from  one  aunt  to  the  other  round  the 
ever-increasing  confusion  on  the  table.  There  was  a  great 
gingerbread  sweetheart  for  every  one,  of  course,  and  an  in- 
digestible almond  letter,  and  parcels  innumerable,  boxes  and 
papers,  taking  up  twice  as  much  room  again  in  the  delicious 
medley  of  unpacking.  Mevrouw  van  Ilessel  sat  with  a  great 
sack  of  genuine  potatoes  before  her  among  which  she  had 
long  hunted  for  the  hollow  one ;  Kees  * — twenty,  and  at 
college — had  wanted  to  uncork  all  the  bottles  in  his  wine- 
basket  (prevented  in  time)  before  he  perceived  that  papa 
had  stuck  a  banknote  in  an  envelope  behind  one  of  the 
labels.     And  Annemie,  the  beauty,  had,  amid  much  laugh- 

*  Short  for  "  Cornelius." 


18  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

ter,  unpacked  a  hat  on  which  her  younger  brother  Klaas  * 
had  lavislied  cheap  green  and  yeHow  ribbons,  fastened  to- 
gether by  a  tiny  Greenaway  brooch.  That  was  a  pardonable 
hit  at  Annemie's  appreciation  of  her  own  good  looks, 

Joost  was  there  also.  He  had  not  so  many  presents,  be- 
cause he  had  not  so  many  friends.  He  did  not  sit  staring 
vacantly  at  half-a-dozen  articles,  wondering  whoever  could 
have  sent  them,  and  what  he  was  to  do  with  them  now  they 
had  come.  He  was  not  troubled  by  the  pre-occupation  of 
the  girls  van  Hessel,  lest  they  should  reach  a  lower  number 
than  their  acquaintances,  and  Bettekoo's  repeated :  "  Oh  I 
hope  we  shall  pass  the  hundred  this  year ! "  struck  him  as 
foolish,  if  it  struck  him  at  all.  He  had  unfastened  his  par- 
cels one  by  one  as  they  were  brought  to  him,  and  guessed 
at  the  donors.  It  was  not  so  difficult  under  these  circum- 
stances because  he  scarcely  had  to  look  beyond  the  circle 
around  him.  His  first  paper  had  revealed  a  card-case  with 
a  little  embroidered  vignette.  He  had  held  it  in  his  hand 
for  a  long  time,  wanting  to  say :  "  Agatha,"  but  something 
that  made  his  heart  go  pit-a-pat  had  forced  out  "  Bettekoo." 
He  was  quite  sorry  to  find  he  had  guessed  aright,  and  then 
ashamed  of  himself  for  feeling  sorry.  And  so  he  had  suc- 
cessively found  out  Mevrouw  van  Hessel,  Mevrouw  Verrooy, 
and  Annemie ;  and  now  only  one  parcel  remained.  This, 
then,  surely,  must  be  Agatha's.  He  took  off  a  number  of 
papers  and  disclosed  a  small  black  leather  case.  His  hands 
trembled  a  little  as  he  opened  it  and  gazed  down  on  a  Meer- 
schaum cigar-holder.  He  felt  nov\^  instinctively  that  he  must 
keep  back  the  one  word  that  was  pushing  to  the  front,  and 
yet,  looking  round,  he  stammered  out :  "  Agatha."  There 
was  a  general  laugh,  and  Kees,  the  giver  of  the  pipe,  slajoped 
him  on  the  back  and  cried  "  Bravo,"  and  so  Joost  was  mis- 
erable for  the  rest  of  the  evening, 

*  Short,  for  "  Nicholas." 


"SAXTA   CLAUS."  19 

"Agatha's  present  is  not  yet  quite  ready,"  said  Mynheer 
van  Hessel.    "  I  tell  her  she  must  wait  to  give  it  you  until — " 

"  And  here  is  something  new,"  cried  Mevrouw,  as  the 
folding-doors  were  thrown  open. 

A  personage  entered,  of  reverend  aspect,  with  flowing 
beard  of  cotton- wool,  robed  in  a  crimson  mantle  and  wear- 
ing a  bishop's  mitre.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  well-stuffed 
bag,  and  as  he  slowly  advanced,  he  told  his  name  and  mis- 
sion :  St.  Nicholas,  the  good  bishop,  friend  and  patron  of 
all  good  children.  The  two  smaller  Verrooy's  stood  staring 
curiously ;  but  when  the  Saint  asked  gravely,  if  there  were 
any  such  good  children  there?  the  youngest  promptly  an- 
swered :  "  Yes,"  and  they  held  out  their  hands  for  their 
presents  and  scrambled  gleefully  for  the  sweetmeats  which 
were  soon  being  scattered  all  over  the  floor  from  the  Bish- 
op's inexhaustible  bag.  But  the  eldest,  "  who  was  no  more  a 
child,"  shrank  back  nervously,  being  old  enough  to  question, 
and  would  not  take  courage,  till  Kees,  the  very  person  who 
had  done  most  to  convince  her,  took  pity  and  whispered : 
"  It  was  only  Uncle  Klaas,"  thereby  dispelling  all  belief  in 
Saint  Xicholas^in  good  fairies,  ghosts,  and  good  fortune — 
forever. 

The  disappearance  of  Saint  Nicholas  heralded  the  de- 
parture of  the  children  who  went  off,  laden  with  more  good- 
ies than  they  could  eat  in  a  month,  and  more  toys  than  they 
could  comfortably  break  in  a  week.  Then,  all  the  parcels 
having  been  oj)ened,  a  lull  fell  on  the  party,  till  Bettekoo, 
who  was  the  sprightliest  of  the  family,  proposed  a  new  game 
she  had  recently  seen  played,  a  French  game,  you  know, — 
they  call  it  "  Combles," — in  which  every  player  has  to  give 
his  definition  of  some  "  Comblo  "  selected  before  hand.  Lo 
Comble  de  I'ennui,  le  Comble  de  la  betise,  le  Comble  de  I'ava- 
rice,  and  so  forth ;  you  agree  on  a  special  subject,  and  then 
give  your  idea  of  its  non  plus  ultra;  the  best  delinilion  to 

gain  the  prize. 
B 


20  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

Le  Comble  du  pleonasme  was  chosen,  and  Mevrouw  van 
Hessel  led  off  "  with  a  reasonable  argument,"  at  which  her 
husband  shook  his  head.  Then  came  Kees  with  "  unneces- 
sary sujDerfluity,"  Annemie  with  "attractive  beauty  "  ("very 
bad,"  said  Kees)  and  Mynbeer  van  Hessel  with  "  unreason- 
able woman,"  accompanied  by  a  triumphant  look  at  his  wife. 

And  now  it  was  Joost's  turn.  He  had  got  his  pleonasm 
ready  beforehand  and  was  burning  to  say  "  Fair  Agatha  " ; 
but  at  the  last  he  feared  it  would  be  considered  immodest, 
and  so  he  said  "  good  Agatha  "  instead. 

"  Right,"  said  Kees. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Bettekoo,  who  was  not  aware  that  Aga- 
tha means  "  good." 

"  You  should  have  said, '  fair  Agatha,"  remarked  Myn- 
heer van  Hessel.  "  In  my  youth,  when  men  were  still  gal- 
lant, every  cavalier  would  have  said  '  fair  Agatha' ;  but  you 
youngsters  can  not  turn  a  neat  compliment  nowadays." 

It  did  not  comfort  Joost  much  after  this  that  "good 
Agatha"  gained  the  prize. 

■  ■  •  ■  •  •  • 

"  Good-by,"  said  Agatha,  at  the  hall-door,  "  I — I  had 
got  something  for  you,  Joost;  only  mamma  did  not  like 
what  I  had  chosen,  and —  " 

"  Ask  Agatha  for  her  present,  Joost !  "  called  out  Myn- 
heer van  Hessel. 

"I  don't  think  mamma  would  like  the  present  I  should 
ask,"  said  Joost  to  himself,  as  he  walked  out  briskly  into  the 
frosty  night. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS.  21 

CHAPTER  III. 

DKAMATIS    PERSOX.^. 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Joost,"  said  the  Baron  van  Trotsem, 
next  mornino^  at  breakfast. 

Joost  did  not  answer. 

"  You  are  a  fool,"  repeated  his  uncle.  Do  you,  perhaps, 
a  student  of  medicine,  a  wise  man,  scientific  and  all  the  rest 
of  it,  mean  to  tell  me  you  believe  in  Santa  Glaus  or  any  saint, 
good  or  bad?  Nonsense;  you  scientists  nowadays  believe 
only  in  the  devil,  whom  you  worshij)  as  the  origin  of  evil  by 
his  new  name  of  the  great  Microbe." 

Still  Joost  was  silent.  He  smiled  to  himself,  for  he 
thought  that  he  recognized  a  saying  of  Mynheer  van 
Hessel's. 

"And  did  you  enjoy  yourself?"  queried  the  old  gentle- 
man, as  he  poured  himself  out  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  No,"  said  Joost. 

"  And  I  suppose  you  told  Mevi'ouw  van  Hessel  so ! " 
sneered  his  uiicle. 

"  She  did  not  ask  me,"  said  Joost. 

"  And  if  she  had  done  so  ?  "  the  ojd  gentleman  paused, 
with  uplifted  sugar  tongs,  and  regarded  his  nephew  from 
under  liis  beetling  eyebrows. 

"  I  should  have  told  her  the  truth." 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Joost." 

It  was  now  sixteen  years  ago,  that  Joost  Avelingh,  a  pale 
little  orphan  of  five,  had  first  crossed  his  uncle's  threshold, 
and  he  had  never  since  then  spent  more  than  half-a-dozen 
consecutive  nights  under  any  other  man's  roof.  People 
often  wondered  how  he  came  to  be  there  at  all.  The  Baron 
van  Trotsem  himself  could  scarcely  have  told.  If  any  one 
had  been  able  to  give  a  fairly  accurate  explanation,  it  would 
have  been  the  Baron's  old  nurse — ninety-three,  and  pen- 


22  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

sioned  off,  in  a  cottage  ou  the  estate,  for  many  long  years 
now — but  the  Baron's  old  nurse  was  childish,  and  past  talk- 
ing accurately  about  anything  whatsoever.  It  was  a  pity ; 
for  she  might  have  told  of  days  in  the  early  years  of  the 
century,  when  Dirk  van  Trotsem  was  a  bright  and  loving, 
if  somewhat  wayward  and  imperious  child,  an  only  child, 
always  playing  alone,  learning  as  it  were  to  live  alone,  roam- 
ing far  and  wide  through  the  woods  of  the  ancestral  home 
he  dearly  loved,  and — later  on — shooting  through  them  day 
after  day,  with  no  companion  but  his  dogs.  She  might  have 
told  of  his  passionate  resentment  when  his  father  married 
again,  after  twenty  years  of  widowhood,  and  of  his  equally 
passionate  afterlove  for  his  little  half-sister  Adelheid.  She 
had  once  remembered  all  the  circumstances  of  their  affec- 
tionate intercourse;  she  had  seen  the  girl  grow  up  and 
twine  her  charms  round  her  brother's  impetuous,  impres- 
sionable heart.  She  had  seen  them  live  together  when  the 
old  father  died,  in  the  time  when  the  sister  was  twenty, 
bright,  gay  and  handsome,  and  the  brother  forty,  a  strong 
man,  but  affectionate,  a  country  gentleman  to  the  backbone, 
still  fond  of  being  left  alone,  knowing  each  inch  of  his  own 
estate  and  loving  it,  and  proud  with  an  all-corroding,  all- 
consuming  pride  of  his  great  historic  name  and  ancient 
lineage. 

She  could  have  remembered  the  great  quarrel  later  on  : 
the  Freule's  match  with  the  village  doctor  in  open  defiance 
of  her  brother,  the  cruel  separation — forever,  as  it  proved — 
when  he  drove  her  from  his  door ;  the  whole  sad  story ;  the 
old  nurse  could  have  told  it  once  upon  a  time,  and  told  it 
Avell.  But  so  far  she  would  have  recounted  nothing  that  all 
the  village  had  not  heard  from  its  grandmother  half-a-dozen 
times  before.  However,  she  could  Imve  gone  much  further 
and  spoken  of  long  lonely  nights  wlien  the  Baron  stalked 
up  and  down  his  dark  room  till  daybreak,  and  of  gray  hairs 
among  the  black,  and  deep  furrows  on  the  ruddy  complexion. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS.  23 

"  There  was  no  doubt,"  as  she  said,  at  the  time,  "  that 
tlie  separation  tried  the  Baron  cruelly,  for  if  there  was  one 
thing  he  loved  more  on  earth  than  Trotsem  Towers,  it  was 
surely  his  sister.  x\nd  she,  poor  thing  !  Dear,  dear,  people 
complained  of  his  not  having  a  good  heart,  but  it  was  all 
bluster — bluster  and  a  heart  of  gold." 

Therein,  however,  her  judgment  failed  her.  It  was  not 
all  bluster.  There  was  a  burning  wound,  a  depth  of  posi- 
tive, continuous  pain,  such  as  few  men  can  understand  and 
still  fewer  sympathize  with.  To  acknowledge,  and  fairly 
appreciate,  the  wrongs  of  injured  family  pride  a  man  must 
have  ancestors  and  an  ancestral  name  of  his  own.  They  are 
a  possession,  as  much  so  as  houses  and  lands,  or  an  honor- 
able reputation ;  too  often  they  form  the  owner's  only  prop- 
erty ;  to  take  them  from  him  is  theft,  to  strike  at  them  as- 
sault. And  the  multitude,  unjust  in  their  ignorance,  talk 
of  "  vanity  receiving  its  due  reward,"  as  if  it  were  the  de- 
served fate  of  the  proud  possessor  of  a  beautiful  garden  that 
roughs  should  climb  in  and  knock  off  all  his  roses. 

The  Baron  Dirk  van  Trotsem  was  not  an  intellectual, 
nor  a  well-ed+icated,  man.  He  had  grown  up,  as  has  been 
said,  pretty  much  alone  and  at  haphazard,  with  an  old  nurse 
to  look  after  his  wants,  and  without  seeing  much  of  his 
father,  who  was  a  State-minister  and  occupied  with  public 
affairs.  Even  as  the  boy  grew  older,  he  avoided  the  society 
of  his  equals ;  but  he  turned  instinctively  to  the  men  about 
the  estate,  and  made  friends  with  grooms,  gardeners  and 
gamekeepers.  From  his  earliest  days  he  developed  a  very 
passion  for  a  country  life,  for  country  pursuits  in  all  their 
forms.  Before  he  could  conjugate  "  amo,  amas,  amat,"  he 
knew  the  note  of  all  the  birds  of  his  province.  He  never 
learned  to  write  Dutch  correctly,  but  as  years  went  on,  ho 
acquired  what  may  be  called  a  personal  ac(|uaintancc  with 
half  the  trees  on  his  large  estate,  an  individual  acquaintance 
which  separated,  and  kept  apart,  the  peculiarities  of  half- 


24:  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

a-dozen  trees  of  the  same  species,  standing  side  by  side. 
But,  none  the  less,  a  bird  was  a  bird,  and  a  tree  was  a  tree, 
to  the  Baron  van  Trotsem.  Trees  remained  material  for 
agricultural  occupation,  and  birds — chiefly  remarkable  as 
game-birds,  useful  and  harmful  birds — were  made  either  to 
be  killed  or  let  alone.  He  knew  the  varieties  of  primroses, 
and  could  even  give  you  one  or  two  Latin  names  (with  a 
false  quantity),  but  for  all  that  they  were  yellow  primroses 
to  him — and  nothing  more. 

His  father  had,  after  a  fierce  struggle,  given  up  all  at- 
tempts to  send  the  boy  to  the  University :  he  died,  bitterly 
disappointed,  soon  after  the  loss  of  his  second  wife,  whom 
he  had  been  chiefly  prompted  to  marry  by  the  desire  for  a 
more  promising  son,  and  who  only  presented  him  with  one 
little  daughter.  Dirk  found  himself  his  own  master  at  the 
age  of  twenty- three,  alone  in  a  large  old-fashioned  castle 
with  a  middle-aged  housekeeper,  who  had  been  his  nurse, 
an  infant,  and  a  host  of  servants.  He  laughed  at  all  ambi- 
tious advice,  answered  that  to  be  the  last  van  Trotsem  was  in 
itself  a  vocation,  shot  and  fished  over  his  property  and  ex- 
plored every  nook  of  it,  putting  to  rights  the  many  things 
his  father  had  neglected,  until  each  slate  lay  on  the  cottages 
and  each  twig  fell  from  the  trees  according  to  the  strictest 
rules  of  economical  accuracy.  There  was  not  a  better  man- 
aged estate  in  the  country  than  Dirk  van  Trotsem's  ;  there 
was  no  budget  in  commercial  Amsterdam  more  beautifully 
worked  out  than  his.  The  Baron  could  not  reason  logi- 
cally, but  he  could  cipher  with  the  best.  His  father's  book- 
cases stood  untouched  and  dusty,  but  lie  had  his  private 
library,  consisting  of  three  volumes:  his  mother's  Bible, 
Eietstap's  "  Noble  Families  of  the  Netherlands  "  and  the  ac- 
count-book of  the  estate.  The  first  he  honored  from  a  dis- 
tance; the  second  he  admired  aud  often  looked  into  of  a 
Sunday ;  the  third  he  studied  all  the  week. 

In  short,  Dirk  van  Trotsem  Avas  a  hard-headed,  not  too 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS.  25 

soft-hearted,  old-fasliioned  country  gentleman,  with  an  im- 
mense idea  of  the  greatness  of  his  race,  and  of  himself  as  its 
representative,  but  not  otherwise  of  noticeable  vanity;  a 
good  landlord  because  a  so  conscientiously  painstaking  one ; 
and  a  good  citizen,  because,  although  he  usually  voted  for 
nothing  at  all,  he  never  voted  for  anything  wrong.  Senti- 
ment first  came  into  his  life  when  his  little  half-sister  began 
to  attach  herself  to  him,  and  within  a  short  time  he  had 
given  his  whole  heart,  such  as  it  was,  to  the  child.  She  was 
beautiful,  and  he  worshiped  her  beauty;  she  was  affection- 
ate, and  he  went  a-begging  for  her  kisses ;  she  was  imperi- 
ous, and  he  bowed  his  neck  to  the  family  spirit.  The  con- 
trol of  the  estate  was  his  daily  bread  ;  the  coming  home  to 
Adelheid  a  jam-puff  at  the  close. 

There  was  nothing  romantic  in  his  love,  for  all  that.  It 
was  good,  solid,  every-day,  wear  and  tear  affection.  lie 
liked  Adelheid,  not  for  any  far-sought  reason,  but  for  what 
she  really  was  to  him :  a  van  Trotsem,  his  sister,  a  sunbeam 
in  the  gloomy  house  ;  and,  as  years  went  on,  a  quick,  if  care- 
less housekeeper.  He  liked  her  to  play  the  piano  to  him  in 
the  evening, <ilthough  he  never  recognized  the  tune;  he 
liked  her  to  listen  to  his  interminable  stories  about  the  cows 
and  the  crops,  and  that  in  spite  of  the  ignorance  she  re- 
vealed when  he  asked  her  opinion.  And,  under  his  rough 
exterior,  his  heart,  ever  quicker  than  his  head,  swift  to  flame 
though  slow  to  melt — was  unsuspectingly  susceptible  of  the 
caresses  his  little  sister  bestowed  on  him.  It  lay  dozing 
like  a  cat,  but  it  purred  when  stroked. 

Then  came  the  dispute,  when  Adelheid's  spirit  asserted 
itself  in  quite  an  unexpected  manner.  She  was  barely 
twenty;  she  had  fallen  in  love  Avith  Dr.  Avelingh  and  de- 
clared herself  resolved  to  marry  him.  The  village  doctor  ! 
a  poor  man  ! — that  did  not  matter — but  a  bourgeois !  An 
honest  man,  and  a  clever  ! — Faugh !  All  gentlemen  are 
honest ;  and  cleverness  is  not  a  gentlcmanlv  quality  at  all. 


2G  JOUST   AVELIXGII. 

There  was  a  regular  tussle.  According  to  Dutch  law,  a 
woman  can  not  marry  without  her  guardian's  consent  till 
she  is  twenty-three,  so  Dirk  had  several  years  before  him. 
He  shut  up  his  sister  in  the  castle  and  used  all  his  influence 
to  drive  her  lover  from  the  village.  But  the  doctor  set  his 
back  to  the  wall  and  stood  firm.  And  Adelheid  took  to 
feminine  arguments,  and  began  to  look  pale  and  wan  and 
fading  away.  So  Dirk  sent  for  a  great  man  from  Utrecht, 
and  cast  murderous  glances  into  the  doctor's  dispensary  as 
he  drove  his  visitor  up  from  the  station.  The  doctor  re- 
turned them  defiantly,  and  took  ofl'  his  hat  to  his  distin- 
guished colleague. 

"Was  the  Utrecht  Professor  in  the  lovers'  secret  ?  Or  did 
he  guess  it,  and  are  there  still  romantic  medical  men  ?  He 
took  the  Baron  into  a  side-room  and  told  him  that  the  in- 
valid was  dying  of  heart-disease  which  indulgence  of  her 
fancies  alone  could  cure. 

"  You  must  let  her  do  as  she  likes,"  he  said. 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  the  Baron,  "  and  to  begin  with 
I'll  see  you  d —  driven  back  to  the  station." 

After  that  Baron  Dirk  locked  himself  up  in  his  study 
and  had  a  bad  time  of  it  for  an  hour  or  two.  He  swore  at 
the  doctor,  the  professor,  his  sister,  himself,  his  ancestors, 
the  medical  profession,  the  world  in  general.  Heaven,  Hell, 
and  then  at  the  doctor  again,  and  the  devil — he  mixed  these 
two  up  rather  toward  the  end. 

Then  he  unlocked  his  door,  and  went  up  to  his  sister. 
He  remained  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  at  some 
distance  from  her  couch. 

"  Freule  Adelheid  van  Trotsem,"  he  said,  "  I  have  come 
here  to  ask  you  to  choose,  once  for  all,  between  your  name, 
your  rank,  your  kindred,  your  home,  me,  my — my — love  on 
the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  hand — the  village  doctor." 

He  paused.  A  slight  flush  crept  over  Adelheid's  pale 
face.     She  hesitated  a  moment — not  from  indecision. 


DRAJIATIS   PERSON^E.  27 

*'  I  choose  the  doctor,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied.  "  1  shall  be  at  the  Stadhuis  * 
on  Monday,  the  17th,  at  twelve  o'clock,  to  give  my  consent. 
To-day  is  the  7th,  the  banns  will  take  you  till  Monday.  No, 
I  forgot.  Excuse  me.  I  must  go  to  the  Horse  Fair  on  Mon- 
day. On  Tuesday,  the  18th  at  twelve  o'clock,  I  shall  be  at 
the  Stadhuis." 

He  turned  to  go. 

"  Dirk,"  she  cried  starting  up,  "  I  must,  I  must — Dirk, 
let  me—" 

The  door  closed  upon  him.  Those  were  the  last  words  he 
spoke  to  her.  He  saw  her  once  more,  at  the  Townhall,  as 
he  had  promised,  then  never  again. 

She  left  the  neighborhood  with  her  husband.  The  lat- 
ter was  for  braving  out  his  noble  brother-in-law's  wrath,  but 
she  loved  that  brother  too  much  for  such  a  measure.  They 
crept  away,  "  like  criminals,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  helped 
his  wife  into  the  cab. 

How  the  Baron  got  back  into  his  room,  after  the  inter- 
view described  above,  he  never  knew.  Before  he  realized 
what  he  was  doing  he  had  broken  every  chair  within  reach, 
what  with  swearing  and  raving  and  stamping  about.  He 
was  ashamed  of  his  behavior  during  many  ensuing  weeks, 
and  persistently  deprived  himself  of  smoking — yes,  actually, 
smoking — till  he  had  paid  for  every  penny  of  the  damage  in 
that  manner. 

These  fits  of  passion  grew  upon  him,  as  time  went  on. 
He  was  past  forty  when  his  sister  left  him,  when  he  sud- 
denly awoke  to  the  consciousness  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
very  lonely,  dull  and,  as  he  considered,  ill-used  man.  He 
buried  himself  anew  in  the  administration  of  his  property, 
and  from  being  strictly  just,  grew  stern.  He  would  break 
out  into  rages  about  nothing,  pouring  down  over  the  heads 

*  Towiiliall. 


28  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

of  his  servants  abuse  which  was  really  aimed  at  his  sister, 
and  still  more  at  himself.  Not  that  he  thought  himself  to 
be  blamed  in  any  way ;  if  anything,  he  was  angry  for  having 
acted  right.  He  had  had  no  occasion,  while  his  sister  occu- 
pied his  house  and  his  affections,  to  trouble  about  love-mak- 
ing, and  now  it  seemed  too  late  for  anything  of  that  kind. 
Besides,  there  were  stories  abroad  of  an  earlier  love  affair — 
but  we  need  not  dwell  upon  these  stories  here.  In  fact,  cir- 
cumstances were  broadening  all  the  shadows  in  his  charac- 
ter and  stunting  the  naturally  feeble  sunbeams ;  he  was  grow- 
ing into  an  unreasonable,  unamiable  man,  with  a  heart  pre- 
maturely seared. 

Two  years  after  their  parting  on  the  Townhall  stairs  the 
brothers-in-law  met  again,  this  time  on  the  steps  of  Castle 
Trotsem. 

Adelheid  Avelingh  was  dying  and  she  had  sent  her  hus- 
band to  her  brother  with  a  message  of  peace.  The  doctor 
went — he  would  have  done  anything  for  his  wife  at  that 
moment;  who  would  not?  —  and  Dirk,  called  out  by  a 
servant,  received  his  enemy  on  the  threshold.  The  message 
was  delivered  coldly  and  formally :  a  prayer  for  one  more 
meeting  before  the  end ;  the  answer  was  given  more  briefly 
still :  an  outstretched  hand,  a  finger  pointing  down  the 
avenue;  that  was  all.  The  doctor  turned  to  go,  with  rage 
and  contempt  unspeakable  battling  in  his  heart,  and  did  not 
dream  that  the  other  stood  there  completely  unable  to  utter 
a  word,  fighting  with  a  tempest  of  sorrow  and  fury  at  him- 
self, at  his  sister,  at  the  man  before  him,  in  efforts  that  sent 
the  blood  beating  thunder  against  his  brain  and  swam  a  red 
ocean  before  his  eyes. 

Dirk  van  Trotsem  watched  his  rival  pass  out  of  sight 
in  that  crimson  mist :  then  ho  stumbled  forward,  stretch- 
ing out  one  hand  vaguely  and  feeling  with  the  other  in  his 
tail  pocket,  while  the  first  and  last  tears  he  ever  shed  since 
his  childhood  trickled  heavily  down  his  cheeks. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS.  29 

A  couple  of  years  again  passed  on,  and  then  little  Joost 
Avelingh  was  brought  to  his  uncle's  house.  And  this  was 
how  that  came  about.  The  widower,  a  strong,  healthy  man, 
fully  occupied  by  his  profession  and  the  care  of  his  only 
child,  was  suddenly  struck  down  by  an  internal  inflamma- 
tion which  carried  him  off  in  less  than  a  week.  During 
the  first  days  he  was  full  of  the  knowledge  that  the  disease 
could  be  stopped ;  then  came  the  fatal  cliange,  and  he  knew 
that  he  had  but  a  few  hours  to  live.  He  sent  for  the 
minister  of  his  village,  a  good  man,  with  whom  he  had  had 
some  intercourse.  But  when  the  minister  came,  he  was 
nearly  speechless.  He  pointed  to  the  child  playing  with 
his  cart  and  horse  but  a  few  feet  from  the  bed. 

"  To  the  orphanage,"  he  gasped.  The  minister  stood 
amazed. 

"  Surely,"  he  began,  "  your  relations,  or  your  wife's — " 

The  dying  man  signed  impatiently  for  writing  materials. 
They  were  brought  him.  He  scribbled  down  hurriedly : 
"  To  the  orphanage — only — 7iot  his  uncle."  The  minister 
bent  over  him.  He  had  large,  dark,  penetrating  eyes — 
fortunately,  or^who  knows  where  little  Joost  might  have 
ended  his  days?  He  looked  right  into  the  dying  man's 
soul.  "  On  whose  behalf  do  you  make  that  arrangement?" 
he  asked      "  Your  own,  or  the  child's  ?  " 

Avelingh  winced  :  he  seized  the  scraj)  of  paper  and  wrote 
eagerly  :  "  The  cliild's." 

The  minister  bent  down  closer,  till  his  face  almost 
touched  the  other's.  "  On  whose  behalf,"  he  said,  slowly 
and  solemnly,  "  do  you  make  that  arrangement  ?  Your 
own,  or  the  child's?  " 

The  doctor  started  up  so  suddenly,  that  his  interlocutor 
recoiled.  Supporting  himself  as  best  he  could,  Avelingh 
souglit  tlie  child,  silent,  struck  still  amidst  his  toys,  staring 
open-mouthed.  With  a  swift  wrench  the  father  tore  the 
scrap  of  paper  right  across,  and  fell  back.     It  was  the  onp 


30  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

great  self-renunciation  of  Avelingli's  life,  made  in  the  hour 
of  death.  He  lay  nnconscious  till  the  evening,  when  he 
died. 

After  all  debts  were  settled,  the  minister  found  him- 
self in  the  possession  of  five-year-old  Joost,  an  insurance 
policy  of  three  thousand  florins*  and  three  hundred  and 
twenty-nine  florins,  fifty-five-and-a-half  cents  of  ready- 
money.  He  sat  down  and  composed  a  lengthy  epistle  to 
the  Baron  van  Trotsem,  in  which  he,  with  much  elaborate 
care,  gave  a  description  of  what  had  taken  place  and  asked 
for  instructions  with  regard  to  the  future  of  the  little 
orphan.  Ought  he  to  have  told  so  much  ?  He  discussed 
the  question  at  length  with  his  wife,  and  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  father's  memory  was  ruined,  in  every  case, 
beyond  retrieval,  and  that  the  knowledge  of  the  facts  might 
rouse  the  pride,  if  not  tbe  magnanimity,  of  the  child's  noble 
relations.  The  answer  to  the  letter  came  unexijectedly,  by 
telegram  :  "  Send  child."  The  minister's  wife  began  pack- 
ing up  Joost's  little  belongings,  with  a  heart  full  of  mingled 
feelings,  when  a  second  telegram  arrived :  "  Keep  child. 
Will  pay  expenses."  But  before  the  change  was  fully  dis- 
cussed, a  third  telegram  appeared,  which  proved  to  be  a 
repetition  of  the  first.  Still  later,  during  the  course  of  that 
ever  memorable  day,  two  other  contradictory  missives  came 
rushing  in ;  all  the  village  street  was  in  a  ferment — the 
minister's  quiet  neighbors  pressing  their  cheeks  against  the 
panes  for  another  sight  of  the  wearied  telegraph-boy.  At 
last  came  a  fresh  telegram  with  definite  instructions  :  "  Send 
child  unconditionally.  Never  mind  further  telegrams. 
Van  Trotsem."  The  minister  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and  his 
wife  and  her  charge  were  already  some  way  on  their  jour- 
ney, ere  he  opened  the  last  telegram  and  read  :  "  Keep  child. 
Will  pay  expenses." 

*  Two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 


DRAMATIS  PERSOXiE.  31 

Joost  Avelingli  was  received  by  servants  on  his  arrival  at 
the  castle ;  rooms  were  assigned  to  him  in  a  side  wing,  and  a 
Swiss  nursery-governess  procured.  The  choice  unfortu- 
nately proved  an  unwise  one ;  the  nurse  was  an  ignorant  aiid 
unscrupulous,  though  a  smooth-faced  and  smooth-mannered, 
woman,  and  Joost  found  himself  suddenly  transported  from 
the  free,  intellectual  intercourse  with  a  father  resolved  to 
make  a  clever  man  of  his  son  to  a  nursery  full  of  ghost  sto- 
ries, small  lies  and  small  persecutions.  During  the  first  year 
or  two  he  saw  but  little  of  his  uncle,  who  dreaded  the  pain 
of  the  whole  connection.  Those  years  gave  their  definite 
impulse  to  his  impressions  of  both  past  and  present.  The 
image  of  his  dead  father  deepened  ui3on  his  childish  mind 
with  all  the  glory  of  a  lost  happiness ;  the  grim  uncle,  seen 
at  rare  intervals  and  never  caressed,  became  the  embodiment 
of  terror.  Joost  had  an  old  picture  book,  his  favorite,  with 
the  story  of  "  Beauty  and  the  Beast."  With  a  child's  con- 
tempt of  incongruities,  he  clothed  his  uncle  with  the  name 
and  attributes  of  the  Monster  and  his  father  with  those 
of  the  unfortunate  Bride.  It  was  a  dangerous  game  that 
van  Trotsem  vrns  i:>laying  ;  and  he  lost  it  in  the  end. 

Joost  had  been  two  days  in  the  castle  before  uncle  and 
nephew  met,  "  Wliat  is  your  name,  child '? "  said  the  uncle 
abruptly.  "  Joost,"  replied  the  nephew,  and  added,  "  Ave- 
lingh." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  Baron  heard  the  boy's  name, 
and  he  was  angi7  at  himself  for  being  so  angry  that  his  sis- 
ter had  called  her  baby  after  her  husband,  and  not  after 
liim.  lie  turned  abruptly  and  left  his  little  nephew  stand- 
ing on  the  grass-plot,  all  in  a  tremble  at  the  fear  of  having 
done  something  wrong. 

As  Joost  grew  older  and  his  character  developed,  his 
uncle  began  to  take  a  greater  interest  in  him.  They  were 
very  different,  and  yet  in  one  or  two  things  they  were 
strangely  alike.     Joost  also  early  displayed  a  taste  for  wan- 


32  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

deriug  away  into  the  woods  alone,  to  his  nncle's  disaiapoint- 
ment,  who  now,  irrationally  enough,  was  in  want  of  a  com- 
panion. Bnt  Joost  did  not  get  intimate  with  natnre,  at 
least  not  in  his  uncle's  manner.  He  would  lie  out  in  some 
sun-checkered  copse  or  by  some  murmuring  stream,  en- 
joj'ing  himself  with  an  intense  enjoyment,  but  when  he 
came  home,  he  could  not  tell  what  he  had  seen.  One  day 
he  stood  listening  to  a  singing  bird,  lost  in  a  rapture  of  de- 
light. His  uncle  came  suddenly  upon  him,  and,  momenta- 
rily pleased  at  the  boy's  evident  pleasure,  asked  him  what 
kind  of  a  bird  it  was.  "  A — a  lark,"  said  Joost,  confusedly. 
"  The  boy  is  an  utter,  hopeless  fool,"  thought  the  uncle,  for 
it  was  a  nightingale.  Van  Trotsem  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  a  boy  who  wandered  out  into  the  woods  without  caring 
for  them,  must  be  after  some  secret  kind  of  mischief,  and 
he  forbade  the  lonely  excursions,  though  he  would  never 
have  stooped  to  asking  his  nephew  to  accompany  him. 
Joost,  whose  one  great  pleasure  those  moonings  had  been, 
acquiesced  sullenly.  It  was  like  the  Beast  to  shut  the  fair- 
est chamber  up. 

Other  subjects  with  regard  to  which  they  came  near 
enough  to  clash  would  not  be  difficult  to  find.  The  Baron 
was  by  nature  straightforward,  biit  the  quality  had  been 
warped  by  years  and  misfortunes,  till  he  had  learned  to  ac- 
quire a  certain  amount  of  astuteness.  Joost  was  also  strictly 
truthful,  but,  with  him,  the  habit  was  more  a  carefully  in- 
culcated one,  his  natural  tendency  lying  in  the  direction — 
not  of  untruthfulness,  but  of  the  avoidance  of  all  unpleas- 
antness whatsoever.  His  father  had  never  told  him  a  lie  or 
even  joked  him  untruthfully ;  he  soon  got  to  see  that  his 
nurse  had  a  whole  list  of  deceptions  ready  and  measured 
them  out,  as  required,  by  the  yard.  His  uncle  too,  strictly 
honorable  in  all  transactions,  did  not  consider  a  "fancy" 
answer  to  a  child  in  the  light  of  a  really  responsible  full- 
blown lie.     And  so  Joost  soon  found  himself  at  sea,  though 


DRAMATIS  PERSON.^,  33 

lae  stuck  hard  to  his  ideas  of  truth,  imbedded  as  they  were, 
in  his  dead  father's — Beauty's — memory. 

He  had  been  a  year  or  two  at  the  Castle  when  Mevrouw 
van  Hessei — not  by  any  means  always  distinguishable  for 
tact — asked  him  in  the  Baron's  presence,  whether  he  did 
not  love  the  dear  good  uncle — who  was  so  kind  to  him — im- 
mensely. Joost  lifted  up  his  great  dark  eyes  to  hers  and 
said  softly  but  resolutely,  "  No."  An  awkward  silence  fell 
upon  the  company,  and  the  child  stole  a  timid  look  at  his 
uncle  with  oh  such  a  fear  bumping  at  his  heart.  It  was  this 
incident  which  revealed  to  the  Baron  what  a  turn  things 
were  taking.  He  drove  back,  his  little  nephew  sitting  op- 
posite, without  a  word,  simply  because  he  did  not  know  what 
to  say.  "  He  will  murder  me  when  we  get  home,"  thought 
little  Joost.  "l^ever  mind,  I  shall  go  to  Beauty."  But  the 
next  morning  the  Baron  called  him  out,  not  to  stab  him  on 
the  terrace,  as  he  expected,  but  to  show  him  a  little  pony  he 
was  to  have  for  his  own.  It  was  partly  the  Baron's  tribute 
to  the  boy's  intrepidity  and  partly  a  shamefaced  attempt  to 
gain  his  affection.  Joost's  eyes  grew  even  larger  and  round- 
er with  pleasure,  yet  in  the  first  moment  he  shrunk  back 
with  a  half-nervous  awe  from  the  living,  prancing,  palpitat- 
ing wonder  before  him.  His  uncle  saw  the  movement  and, 
crying  out  that  the  child  was  a  coward,  stung  to  the  quick, 
he  ordered  the  groom  to  take  the  animal  back  to  the  dealer's. 
Joost  never  saw  that  marvelous  vision  again  except  in  his 
dreams ;  it  often  came  to  him  then,  and  he  kissed  it  and 
fondled  it.  He  thought  his  uncle  had  arranged  the  whole 
scene  to  punish  him,  to  insult  him ;  and  he  clenched  his 
small  fist  beneath  the  coverlet. 

There  came  a  time  when  Baron  Dirk  would  have  been 
ashamed  to  confess  to  himself  how  anxious  he  was  that  the 
child  should  take  to  him.  He  was  full  of  false  shame,  was 
the  Baron — like  all  egotists — of  false  shame  and  true  pride. 
And  in  spite  of  his  desire  he  did  nothing — or  the  wrong 


34  .TOOST  AVELINGH. 

thing — to  gain  Joost's  love.  He  would  sit  opposite  to  liim 
sometimes  in  silence  for  a-qiiarter-of-an-hour,  with  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  his  great  red  face  beut  forward  and  his 
fierce,  prominent  eyes  staring,  staring  at  the  child,  seeking 
to  stare  into  his  features — as  it  were — some  resemblance  to 
the  dead  Adelheid.  It  was  a  futile  undertaking,  for  Joost 
was  like  his  father,  and  like  his  father  alone.  It  was  a 
terrible  ordeal  to  the  self-willed  old  man  to  see  thus  ever 
before  him  this  living  monument  of  the  whole  cruel,  painful 
story. 

Several  years  had  passed  before  he  spoke  to  the  boy  oi 
his  mother.  He  did  so  one  evening,  in  the  twilight,  sud- 
denly, with  an  impetuous  effort.  But  he  struck  no  answer- 
ing chord ;  Joost  could  remember  nothing  of  her.  The 
child  sat  silent  for  half-a-dozen  moments,  and  then  called 
to  the  dog.  A  burning  desire  had  often  come  over  him — 
almost  insupportable  at  first — to  speak  to  some  one  of  bis 
father,  but  an  instinctive  tenderness  held  him  back.  He 
had  grown  to  be  twelve  before  the  subject  was  broached  at 
all.  And  then  it  came  np  quite  suddenly.  Joost  had 
recently  acquired  a  habit  of  throwing  back  his  black  locks 
with  an  impatient  movement  of  the  head.  It  was  a  daily 
bitterness  to  his  uncle's  heart,  for  it  had  been  the  high- 
spirited  doctor's  favorite  gesture,  the  scornful  shake  with 
which  he  had  flung  from  him  the  Baron's  brutal  attacks. 
"  Don't  do  that !  "  said  van  Trotsem  one  morning,  exasper- 
ated beyond  endurance.  "  Don't  do  that ;  it's  ungentle- 
manly  !  " 

The  word  stung  Joost  out  of  his  life-long  reticence. 
"  Papa  used  to  do  it,"  he  said.  Suddenly,  in  that  moment, 
the  memory  flashed  upon  him  across  the  years. 

"  Your  father,"  shouted  the  Baron  recklessly,  "  was  not 
a  gentleman  ! " 

The  child  started  back.  "  Yon  lie,"  he  cried.  His  uncle 
struck  him,  for  the  first  time,  a  blow  across  the  cheek. 


JOOST  STUDIES  MEDICINE.  35 

The  blow  was  never  repeated,  but  it  marked  a  fresh 
turning-point  where  the  paths  of  uncle  and  nephew  went 
still  farther  apart.  Joost  never  forgot  its  disgrace,  and,  as 
he  went  up  to  his  room,  he  vowed  that  he  would  nevermore 
give  his  uncle  cause  to  strike  him  again.  He  was  by  nature 
uncommunicative ;  he  now  grew  taciturn.  See  what  came 
of  resenting  wrong — fresh,  insupportable  insult !  He  would 
render  it  impossible.  Before  all  his  uncle's  gibes  and  re- 
proaches he  henceforth  sat  silent,  sullen,  often  apparently 
sleepy,  thereby  maddening  the  old  man  more  and  more,  and 
ignoring  the  one  means  by  which  he  might  have  fronted 
and  routed  him.  Tlie  habit,  thus  assumed  in  youth  as  a 
preventive  against  violence,  grew  upon  him.  It  was  easy, 
after  all ;  and  you  soon  get  indifferent.  It  never  left  him 
afterward. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"^  JOOST   STUDIES   MEDICINE. 

"When  Joost  attained  his  thirteenth  birthday,  it  became 
evident  that  he  must  go  to  the  Public  School  at  the  county 
town.  Till  then  he  had  been  educated  in  a  happy-go-lucky 
manner,  the  village  schoolmaster  coming  up  in  vacant  hours 
and  setting  him  long  tasks  to  fill  up  the  intervals.  French 
he  had  learned  from  his  early  governess,  and  hd  spent  too 
much  of  his  free  time  in  the  disused  library,  reading  and  re- 
reading the  French  classic  poets,  and  even  the  great  masters 
of  French  prose.  His  selections  were  often  not  those  a  care- 
ful mother  would  have  made.  He  knew  La  Rochefoucauld 
and  Le  Sage  Avell  before  ho  was  twelve,  and  was  not  un- 
acquainted even  with  Rabelais.     Then  he  dived  into  French 

translations    of    the  Greek    and    Latin   authors — a  chance 
c 


36  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

volume  of  Herodotus  led  him  thither — reading  on  "  fast  and 
loose"  as  they  say  in  Dutch,  and  forgetting  what  he  could 
not  understand.  His  uncle  disapproved  of  the  whole  taste 
without  being  able  to  control  it.  What  rational  boy  would 
prefer  a  book  to  a  boat,  a  pen  to  a  pony  ?  Joost  would  wil- 
lingly have  accepted  the  pony  and  the  boat  too,  had  his  uncle 
offered  them.  He  was  now  driven  to  the  library  by  sheer 
ennui,  and  it  was  a  blessing  he  enjoyed  himself  there.  He 
did  not  care  for  the  society  of  the  children  of  those  grooms 
and  laborers  his  uncle  was  so  familiar  with  in  his  own 
haughty  manner.  He  idled  out  into  the  gardens  and  com- 
posed verses.  They  were  not  very  good  verses,  and  he  was 
by  no  means  a  nineteenth-century  Milton,  but  they  kept 
him  innocently  employed — for  he  could  not  publish  them. 

Even  Dirk  Trotsem  would  have  comprehended  that  such 
a  boy  must  be  properly  educated,  had  he  been  left  to  find  it 
out  by  himself.  But  the  village  schoolmaster  spared  him 
that  trouble  by  telling  him  plainly,  that  Joost  now  knew  all 
he  could  learn  at  home.  And  the  old  man,  who  looked  upon 
his  nephew  as  a  continual  worry,  an  annoyance  and  a  re- 
proach, who  had  no  common  interests  with  the  lad  and  no 
agreeable  intercourse,  and  who  even  felt  at  times  that  he 
positively  disliked  him — the  old  man  now  suddenly  realized 
that  he  could  not  let  the  child  leave  the  house.  He  hated 
the  idea  of  being  left  alone  in  it ;  there  would  be  nobody  to 
talk  to,  nobody  to  talk  at,  if  you  will,  nobody  upon  whom  to 
pour  out  his  grievances.  The  next  worst  thing  to  keeping 
Joost  was  letting  Joost  go.  Both  were  evils ;  his  life  was 
made  up  of  evils ;  he  was  an  ill-used,  undeservedly  perse- 
cuted, miserable,  righteous  old  man. 

So  the  boy  remained  at  the  Castle  and  drove  over  to 
school  daily,  a  drive  of  some  nine  miles.  He  got  on  better 
with  his  companions  than  might  have  been  expected.  His 
heart  warmed  and  thawed  amid  all  that  bright  young  life. 
He  was  quicker  than  most  boys,  certainly,  and  more  reflect- 


JOOST  STUDIES  MEDICINE.  37 

ive,  born  with  what  the  poets  call  an  "  inward  eye,"  but  once 
out  in  the  open  air  with  schoolfellows,  he  became  a  differ- 
ent creature.  He  could  run  wdth  the  swiftest  and  laugh 
with  the  loudest,  and  he  showed  quite  an  unexpected  cour- 
age in  hitting  out  when  attacked.  In  athletic  sj)orts  and 
games  he  did  not  excel ;  "  I  can  only  run  away,"  he  used  to  say 
in  later  years.  But  he  had  a  frank,  ingenuous  manner,  which 
goes  home  straight  to  boys'  hearts — no  one  but  a  bully  would 
have  struck  Joost  Avelingh. 

His  uncle — guided  therein  by  the  Public  School  masters — 
had  destined  him  for  the  bar.  It  seemed  the  natural  thing, 
and  Joost  was  well  satisfied  it  should  be  so.  By  the  time 
he  was  eighteen,  and  in  the  highest  class,  he  looked  upon 
the  matter  as  definitely  settled  and  made  all  his  jilans  ac- 
cordingly with  Kees  van  Hessel,  his  class-fellow  and  chum. 
They  were  to  go  up  together. 

But  in  the  long  vacation — at  the  last  moment  almost — 
a  sudden  change  came.  The  old  Baron — he  was  Just  about 
sixty  by  this  time — called  Joost  into  his  room.  He  sat  in 
the  armchair  by  his  desk,  looking  straight  in  front  of  him 
out  of  the  winj^ow,  with  his  back  turned  to  the  youth. 

"  I  have  been  obliged  to  alter  my  arrangements,"  he  said, 
abruptly ;  "  3'ou  will  study  medicine." 

Joost  stood  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  on  his  heai*t. 
Perhaps — who  knows? — if  he  had  burst  into  hot  reproach 
and  refusal,  he  might  have  shaken  his  uncle's  purpose.  But 
that  was  not  Joost's  manner  with  regard  to  "  the  transaction 
of  unavoidable  business,"  as  he  had  come  to  call  his  inter- 
course with  his  uncle.  He  hesitated  for  some  time ;  then 
he  asked  quietly  and,  worst  of  all,  sneeringly  :  Might  I  know 
your  reasons  for  so  sudden  a  change  ?  "  Now  that  he  was  no 
longer  a  child,  he  hud  got  into  this  dreadful  sneering  accent 
with  his  uncle,  unconsciously,  as  a  man  of  superior  intellect 
is  apt  to  do  under  oppression.  It  was  the  worst  tone  of  all 
with  van  Trotsoin,  wlio  could  not  have  told  whv  it  stung. 


38  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  I  have  my  reasons,"  said  tlie  Baron,  shifting  his  ac- 
count books. 

"  It  is,  therefore,  I  should  like  to  hear  them,"  said  Joost. 
There  was  a  long  silence.  The  big  dog  at  the  Baron's  feet 
rose  up,  stretched  himself,  lifted  his  head,  gave  a  long  look 
at  Joost,  a  deep  sigh,  and  lay  down  again.  The  Baron 
kicked  out  one  foot,  unintentionally,  and  struck  against 
him. 

"  I  may  say  on  my  side,"  continued  Joost,  "  that,  al- 
though I  am  a  doctor's  son,  or  perhaps,  on  that  account,  I 
have  a  particular,  a  peculiar  dislike  to  the  study  of  medi- 
cine. I  loathe  it.  The  idea  of  always  puddling  in  putrid 
matter  is  especially  obnoxious  to  me.  You  may  wish  to 
know  this." 

The  Baron  nodded  his  head  once  or  twice.  "  That  comes 
true,"  he  said  aloud,  more  to  himself  than  to  Joost,  "  quite 
true."  He  took  out,  mechanically,  a  sheet  of  paper  from  the 
blotter  before  him,  held  it  up  for  a  few  moments  without 
reading  the  contents,  and  then  put  it  back.  Joost  noticed 
the  paper ;  is  was  of  a  peculiar  pink  tint,  covered  with  writ- 
ing in  a  large,  florid  hand. 

"  Quite  true.     Quite,  true  "  said  the  Baron  softly. 

"  And  therefore,"  repeated  Joost,  "  I  should  feel  obliged 
if  you  could  communicate  your  reasons  to  me." 

The  old  man  now  for  the  first  time  turned  round  and 
looked  at  his  nephew.  The  dog  came  up  and  put  his  nose 
against  Joost's  hand.  "  Joost,"  said  the  Baron,  quite  kindly, 
"  believe  me,  I  have  my  reasons.  I  consider  them  impera- 
tive. I  am  sure  they  are  right.  I  can't  tell  you ;  at  least,  I 
don't  wish  to.  I  want  you  to  begin  studying  medicine  to 
please  me.  You'll  like  it  afterward.  I  know  you  will. 
They  say  so ;  do  it  to  please  me." 

The  tone  of  the  voice — almost  imploring — was  lost  upon 
Joost.  "  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said,  coldly.  "  I  do  not  be- 
lieve I  need  trouble  you  for  any  reasons.     I  am  confident  I 


JOOST  STUDIES   MEDICINE.  39 

know  them.     In  fact,  I  should  say  I  had  stated  them  my- 
self— just  now." 

He  turned  to  go.  "  What !  "  screamed  the  old  man, 
starting  up  and  shaking  his  fist.  "  Damn  you,  you  thank- 
less scoundrel.  Damn  you  and  the  bread  you  eat.  Medi- 
cine !  You  shall  study  medicine  !  I'll  make  you  study  it ! 
I'll — damn  you,  what  do  you  mean  by  your  insolence? 
What  was  good  enough  for  your  rogue  of  a  father  is  good 
enough  for  his  blackguard  of  a  son !     Damn  you  !  " 

Joost  stood  looking  at  him  for  a  moment,  then  smiled — 
the  faintest  ripple  of  a  smile — and  left  the  room. 

He  really  thought  that  he  knew  the  reason.  He  believed 
that  the  whole  comedy  of  preparation  had  been  jDlayed  by 
the  old  man  for  the  sake  of  this  final  coup.  He  had  been 
led  to  make  all  his  plans  for  the  future,  that  the  disappoint- 
ment, the  humiliation,  might  be  the  greater  in  the  end. 

"  He  may  well  do  it  for  love  of  me,"  muttered  the  Baron 
to  himself,  as  he  fumed  up  and  down  his  sanctum.  "  Why 
should  that  not  be  the  best  reason  of  all  ?  As  good  any  day 
as  the  other.  Why  should  he  not  care  for  my  wishes,  the 
ungrateful  vagabond  ?  Talk  of  filial  affection !  If  such  a 
thing  exists,  he  ought  to  feel  it  for  me !  And  his  father, 
whom  he  has  never  seen  since  he  was  a  child  !  Whom  he 
owes  nothing  but  beggary !  Doubtless  he  would  gladly  do 
it  for  his  father.  He  sha'n't  do  it  for  his  father.  He  shall 
do  it  for  me." 

"  And  he  enjoys  it,"  said  Joost  to  himself,  alone  with  his 
cigar,  by  the  pond.  "  I  tell  him  it  means  life-long  misery 
to  me.  And  he  enjoys  tliat.  That's  what  he  wants.  I  hate 
liini.  Great  Heaven,  how  I  hate  liiiu  !  Can  it  bo  wrong  to 
hate  as  I  do?     With  such  a  cause." 

He  was  debating  witli  himself,  smoothly  and  leisurely, 
v/hether  he  should  turn  his  back  upon  his  uncle  and  his 
uncle's  house  forever.  He  could  enlist  as  a  soldier  for 
Acheen. 


40  JOOST  AVELINGH, 

That  meant  a  horrible  death  in  a  year  or  two.  Friends 
— the  most  intimate,  to  whom  he  had  confided  something 
of  liis  troubles — had  advised  him  to  enlist.  They  were 
snugly  settled  in  their  own  homes,  and  it  sounded  well.  He 
might  come  back  a  general,  with  the  Military  Order  of  Will- 
iam on  his  breast.  He  might — Joost  thought  of  the  un- 
speakable horrors  of  Acheen,  and  shuddered  as  he  looked 
down  into  the  blackness  of  the  pond. 

He  was  well  aware  of  his  poverty.  He  had  been  too 
often  taunted  with  it  for  the  ghost  of  a  doubt  to  be  possible 
on  that  score.  The  exact  amount  of  his  possessions  stood 
out  before  him,  as  he  had  heard  it  a  hundred  times  from 
the  lips  of  his  uncle :  three  thousand  three  hundred  and 
twenty-nine  florins,  fifty-five  and  a  half  cents,  "  the  interest 
— you  know,  Joost,  goes  in  keeping  you.  It  really  all  goes ; 
or  would  you  desire  me  to  give  you  a  written  account?" 
He  was  too  much  a  child  of  the  nineteenth  century  and  he 
had  been  too  accurately  enlightened  by  his  uncle  not  to 
know  that  a  couple  of  thousand  florins  were  at  best  but  a 
loosening  rope  over  the  precipice  of  starvation.  And  be- 
sides, even  what  little  he  had  was  in  his  uncle's  keeping. 
That  uncle  was  rich  enough ;  it  had  been  Dirk  van  Trot- 
sem's  mother  whose  money  had  bought  off  the  mortgages  on 
the  estate  and  restored  the  family  to  their  pristine  glory. 
The  second  wife,  Joost's  grandmother,  had  been  as  poor  in 
her  own  right  as  the  old  Baron,  her  husband,  was  in  his. 

Joost  could  not  escape  from  his  guardian,  even  if  he 
wished  it.  For  the  ensuing  five  years  he  was  bound  by  the 
law  to  obey  in  all  things.  If  he  fled,  he  would  be  brought 
back  with  contumely.  He  could  not,  therefore,  obtain  a 
situation  and  "  honestly  earn  an  independent  crust."  He 
could  only  attempt  to  run  away — run  to  sea,  in  fact.  Not 
all  young  men  have  a  natural  aptitude  or  inclination  that 
way  (if  they  had,  there  would  be  more  good  admirals) ;  Joost 
looked  down  again,  this  time  at  his  own  reflection  in  the 


JOOST  STUDIES  MEDICINE.  41 

pond  and  the  red  spot  of  the  cigar.  He  was  too  old  and 
too  tall  for  a  cabin  boy.  Decidedly  the  idea  was  unpracti- 
cal, and  Joost,  being  practical,  walked  up  the  terrace  and 
rang  for  some  coffee. 

So  Joost  Avelingh  studied  medicine.  He  began  his 
work  with  a  rooted  dislike,  and  the  farther  he  Avent  the 
wider  that  dislike  spread  out,  until  his  life  was  overshad- 
owed by  its  branches.  The  young  men  of  his  own  rank,  or 
rather  of  the  rank  his  uncle's  position  had  brought  him, 
were  law  students,  and  naturally  kept  a  good  deal  to  them- 
selves, though  they  made  an  exception,  as  far  as  possible,  for 
Joost.  His  own  fellow-students  were  rough  lads  of  the 
lower  middle  class,  who  laughed  at  the  airs  he  gave  him- 
self, and  despised  him  for  his  dislike  of  his  profession.  He 
turned  sick  at  the  sight  of  blood,  and  even  the  professor 
burst  out  laughing.  The  smell  of  the  laboratory,  the  touch 
of  all  that  putrescent  flesh  were  horrible  to  him.  Often, 
after  lecture,  he  could  not  eat  a  morsel.  His  daily  occupa- 
tions became  a  terror.  He  fled  from  them — whither?  It  is 
a  wonder  now^^  looking  back,  to  think  he  did  not  fly  to  his 
own  ruin ;  he  sought  a  refuge  in  his  old  favorite,  literature, 
and  thereby  escaped  many  a  danger. 

He  lived  in  rooms  of  his  own  now.  It  was  inevitable 
on  his  going  up  to  the  University,  but  it  was  also  desired  on 
both  sides.  The  time  had  long  gone  by  when  the  Baron 
was  anxious  to  keep  his  nephew  near  him.  He  saw  that 
the  young  man  avoided  him,  and  he  also  was  quite  content 
they  should  see  but  little  of  each  other.  He  regretted  sin- 
cerely that  there  should  be  so  little  sympathy  between  them, 
and  he  laid  the  blame  on  Joost. 

If  there  was  in  Joost's  character  a  strongly  marked  fault 
growing  out  of  a  virtue — what  the  French  call :  Un-de-faut 
de  ses  qualites — it  must  have  been  the  intense  longing  for 
approval  and  admiration  whicli  was  part  of  his  affectionate- 


42  JOOST  AVELIXGH, 

ness.  He  was  anxious  to  do  all  men  a  pleasure,  but  he  was 
also  anxious  to  be  thought  pleasing  by  them,  and  it  was  an 
extravagant  enjoyment  to  him  to  know  that  they  thought 
him  pleasing.  He  wanted  to  be  liked  and  honored  and 
praised.  Why  not?  He  wanted  affection.  But  in  his 
present  position  he  could  not  get  what  he  desired.  Besides, 
in  any  case,  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  popular  at  a  Dutch 
University.  He  drank  but  little ;  he  swore  not  at  all,  and 
he  never  played. 

And  so  Joost  Avelingh  had  spent  three  years  at  the 
University :  he  was  therefore  now,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
one,  about  half-way  in  the  Dutch  curriculum.  He  had  even 
passed  his  first  examination,  although  with  but  indifferent 
success. 

He  went  over  to  his  uncle  from  Saturday  to  Monday  ac- 
cording to  agreement.  The  rest  of  the  week  he  worked  as 
little,  and  read  as  much,  as  he  possibly  could.  He  dreamed 
of  the  great  things  he  might  have  done,  and  thought  him- 
self a  good  deal  cleverer  than  he  really  was.  Most  young 
men  do,  and  that  is  why  the  very  clever  ones  are  so  unbear- 
ably conceited.  During  the  vacations  he  returned  home, 
"  by  royal  command  "  as  he  expressed  it.  He  was  at  home 
at  the  time  of  that  Santa  Claus  evening  when  Agatha  van 
Hessel — "  fair  Agatha  " — sent  him  away  empty-handed. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    ICE-PAKTY. 


"  I  SHOULD  ask  her,  Joost,"  said  Kees. 
They  were  skating   leisurely  up  the  crooked  Ehine  on 
their  way  past  Utrecht  to  the  quaint  old  town  of  Ysseltein. 


THE  ICE-PARTY.  43 

Behind  them  skated  the  rest  of  the  party.  They  in- 
tended making  quite  a  day  of  it  and  were  in  high  spirits  ac- 
cordingly. Mynheer  and  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  had  driven 
over  with  several  other  middle-aged  peojile,  and  the  young 
ones  were  now  skating  to  join  them.  There  was  to  be  a 
simple  luncheon  when  they  reached  their  destination,  and 
then  all  were  to  skate  back  again  along  the  white  canals. 

"  I  can't  think,"  Joost  had  been  saying,  "  what  I  can 
have  done  to  offend  Agatha.  I  suppose  I  have  no  right  to 
expect  her  to  give  me  presents,  but  she  always  has  done  so 
till  now  on  St.  Nicholas  eve.  So  I  suppose  she's  offended 
about  something." 

"  I  should  ask  her,  Joost,"  said  Kees. 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  that  thing  she  said  she 
had  got  for  me  ?  "  continued  Joost,  wishing  his  friend  would 
be  more  communicative,  "  and  which  your  mother — er — er — 
disapproved  of." 

"  Xo,"  said  Kees  truthfully,  "  only  that  my  father  said 
she  could  give  it  you  next  year." 

"  Anyhow,"  Joost  went  on  grumbling  with  a  lover's  in- 
constancy, "  ^he  didn't  give  me  anything.  So  I'm  sure 
that  she's  offended.     I  wonder  what  I  have  done." 

"  Ask  her,  Joost,"  said  Kees  imperturbably,  pulling  a 
long  whiff  from  his  short  curved  pipe. 

"  Ask  her  !  Ask  her !  "  cried  the  other,  losing  all  pa- 
tience, and  sweeping  round  the  corner  with  a  flourish  that 
almost  made  him  lose  his  balance.  "  How  can  you  be  so 
provoking,  Kees  ?  I  can't  go  up  to  your  sister  and  say : 
'  Freule,  why  don't  you  give  me  presents  ?  '  I  might  as  well 
stop  a  young  lady  in  the  street  and  say :  '  Freule,  why  don't 
you  give  me  yourself  ? '  " 

"  You  might,"  said  Kees.  "  And  the  young  lady  might 
be  my  sister,  or  she  might  not.  Look  here,  Joost " — he 
struck  with  a  short  stick  he  was  carrying  at  a  lump  of  snow 
that  lay  handy,  "  you  have  known  Agatha  ever  since  sho 


44  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

was  a  child.  You  like  her,  and  she  likes  j'ou,  and  if  you 
can't  ask  her  by  this  time  whatever  you  want  to,  you  must 
be  a  duffer.  That's  my  opinion,  and  I  don't  consider  my- 
self a  fool." 

Joost  skated  on  in  silence.  A  year  ago  he  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  was  in  love  with  Agatha  van  Hessel, 
and  he  had  found  amusement  and  interest  in  developing 
the  tender  passion  ever  since.  So  by  this  time  it  was  a  very 
serious  thing  indeed.  At  least,  so  he  told  himself.  She 
occupied  his  thoughts,  and  he  liked  to  have  them  so  occu- 
pied. Of  course  she  had  early  taken  possession  of  his  verses, 
and  her  presence  in  them  had  materially  improved  these 
works  of  art.  The  idea  of  his  having  somehow  displeased 
her  worried  him,  chiefly  because  it  hurt  his  comfortable 
self-esteem.  He  did  not  like  people  to  be  dissatisfied  with 
him.     He  liked  to  please  them. 

"  Van  Asveld,"  he  said  presently,  "  is  a  cad." 

"  Of  course,"  acquiesced  Kees.  "  Xobody  doubts  that,  I 
suppose." 

"  Then  why  did  you  ask  him  ?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  man  is  a  gregarious  animal,  and  only 
a  gentlemanly  hermit  could  keep  himself  clear  of  cads.  I 
am  content,  therefore,  to  draw  the  line  at  officially  recogized, 
objective  cads.  I  exclude  all  honest  people  in  fustian,  but 
the  subjective  broadcloth  cad,  the  coronetted  cad,  I  admit. 
I  must  talk  to  somebody.  At  least,  that's  my  opinion,  and 
I  don't  call  myself  a  fool." 

"  No,"  interpolated  Joost,  "  leave  that  to  me,  as  your 
father  says.     No  offense." 

"  The  van  Asvelds  are  an  old  family,"  continued  Kees. 
"  Title  pretty  old  too.  Besides  Arthur's  a  relation  of 
yours." 

"  He  is  no  relation  of  mine  !  "  shouted  Joost  with  un- 
necessary vehemence.  "  He  is  only  a  cousin  of  my  uncle's, 
as  I  have  told  you  a  hundred  times."      He  cast  furious 


THE  ICE-PARTY.  45 

glances  behind  him,  where  Agatha  was  skating,  at  some 
distance  from  them,  hand  in  hand  witli  the  objectionable 
Arthur. 

"  Oh  very  well,"  said  Kees  coolly,  "  most  people  wouldn't 
think  it  mattered  much.  By-the-by,  how  is  the  old  gentle- 
man ?  " 

"  Wonderfully  amiable.  He  presented  me  with  a  check 
for  a  hundred  florins  *  this  morning  as  a  tardy  Santa  Claus 
gift.  As  far  as  I  can  remember — and  I've  been  thinking 
it  over  all  the  morning — it's  the  greatest  proof  of  his  affec- 
tion I  ever  received  in  my  life." 

"  Let  us  hope  he  will  continue  to  improve,"  said  Kees. 
"The  older  he  gets  the  more  may  he  give  you,  till  he 
cuts  up  and  gives  you  all." 

Joost  flushed  up. 

"  He  must  be  very  rich,"  Kees  went  on,  "  with  all  his 
hoarding  and  his  capital  administration  of  the  estate.  All's 
well  that  ends  well,  Joost.  You'll  be  a  great  landed  pro- 
prietor some  day.  My  father  says  Dr.  Kern  told  him  the 
old  man  may  last  twenty  years  longer,  but  there's  every 
chance  he  won^'t  last  two.  He's  got  something  the  matter 
with  his  heart  and  he's  apoplectic  too.  You  knew  that 
didn't  you  ?  Well,  don't  tell  him  I  told  you.  He  does. 
Kern  told  papa  some  weeks  ago.  My  opinion  is  you  won't 
have  a  chance  of  killing  many  patients,  Dr.  Joost. 

Joost  skated  on.  It  has  been  said  that  he  was  a  child 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  age  of  gold,  but  it  is  due  to 
him  to  add  that,  although  he  knew  the  importance  of 
money,  his  was  anything  but  a  mercenary  mind.  He  had 
fully  understood  that  his  uncle  was  rich,  and  that  he  was 
poor,  and  that,  furthermore,  he  was  dependent  on  the  old 
man  for  support — the  fact  had  been  stated  to  him  with 
sufficient  plainness  and  frequency.     But  he  had  never  real- 

*  About  £8  5s. 


46  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

ized  that  there  could  be  any  other  connection  between  him 
and  his  uncle's  money.  Baron  Dirk  never  spoke  of  the 
subject.  And,  for  Joost's  thouglits,  it  had  lain  too  far  out- 
side the  sphere  of  "jiractical  politics."  The  Baron  was  not 
an  old  man — sixty-three,  Joost  thought ;  he  might,  as  Kees 
Hessel  had  said,  live  twenty  years  longer,  and  by  that  time 
the  best  part  of  Joost's  life  would  be  over.  The  subject 
was  too  far  away  for  immediate  consideration.  However  it 
be,  it  is  certain  that  Joost  had  never  looked  upon  himself 
in  the  light  of  a  possible  possessor  of  his  uncle's  wealth  till 
the  morning  of  that  13th  of  December,  when  Kees  Hessel, 
probably  impressed  by  what  his  father  had  repeated  of  the 
doctor's  indiscretions,  first  stated  the  desirable  eventuality 
in  such  unmistakable  terms. 

"And  a  good  thing  too,"  continued  Kees,  breaking  a 
long  and  awkward  silence.  "  And  I  quite  agree  with  my 
father,  whatever  mamma  may  say,  that  you  are  a  very  advan- 
tageous joar/i." 

"  Of  course,  a  bird  in  the  hand  and  all  that's  quite  true," 
continued  the  ingenuous  youth,  "  but  as  matches  go  nowa- 
days you're  a  good  one.  And  if  I  said  what  I  thought — but 
I  can't  say  what  I  think." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  Joost.  "  You  are  like  the 
celebrated  foreign  King — France,  wasn't  it? — who  never 
thought  a  foolish  thing  and  never  said  a  wise  one.  At  least, 
if  one  is  to  believe  your  own  account." 

"  Well,  I  will  say  it,"  cried  Kees.  "  My  advice  would 
be  :  Don't  bother  about  Agatha's  being  offended  with  you, 
but  ask  her  to  marry  you.  She  likes  you  ;  my  father  wants 
it.  You  like  her,  I  am  sure,  for  you're  always  jawing  about 
her.  J\iime ;  tit  ainies ;  il  aime.  Make  it:  nous  aimons, 
and  have  done  with  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Joost  stiffly,  drawing  himself  up  as 
well  as  he  could  while  skating  so  fast — for  he  had  spurted 
as  if  in  a  race  during  the  last  speech — "  Thank  you.     You 


THE   ICE-PARTY.  47 

are  very  good,  and  your  advice  is  undoubtedly  attractive. 
But  I  shall  never  propose  to  any  woman  till  I  am  in  a  posi- 
tion to  maintain  her." 

"  Oh  very  well.  Don't  be  waxy.  I  don't  consider  my- 
self a  fool,  and  that's  my  oj)inion.  Only  mind  Arthur  As- 
veld  doesn't  forestall  you.  I  don't  think  he  will  quite  wait 
for  love-making  till  he  is  able  to  support  a  wife."  And 
good-natured,  self-satisfied  Kees  buried  his  chin  in  the  col- 
lar of  his  pea-jacket  and  tried  hard  to  reanimate  his  perish- 
ing pipe. 

They  were  nearing  their  destination.  They  had  been 
skating  on  and  on  along  the  narrow  river  which  lay  as  a 
gleaming  baud  across  the  flat,  frozen  landscape.  Barren  it 
was  and  hushed,  as  if  in  death,  beneath  its  white  coverlet, 
but  not  bleak.  The  wintry  sun  shone  out  too  cheerily  for  that 
from  his  pale,  silver-blue  sky,  lighting  up  every  sparkle  in 
the  wide  expanse,  and  sweeping  great  shadows — yovi  could 
not  tell  whence — across  the  ice-band  down  the  middle.  The 
rare  trees  along  the  banks — a  cluster  of  poplar?,  a  row  of 
straggling  willows — stood  out,  black  and  gaunt,  against 
heaven.  Here'^and  there  untidy  bushes  formed  a  sort  of 
fringe.  From  these  a  bird  Avould  start  up  occasionally  and 
shoot  on  ahead  over  the  river.  In  the  full,  clear  winter  still- 
ness they  could  hear  his  parting  rustle ;  the  notes  of  bells 
came  ringing  from  peaked  church-towers  in  the  distance. 
Children  called  out  to  them,  standing  among  the  hens  be- 
fore red-roofed,  snow-bedizened  cottages  aloTig  their  road. 
And  as  they  passed  the  full-bellied  Dutch  barges,  motionless 
by  the  frozen  river-bank,  a  head  with  a  pipe  would  lift  itself 
slowly  from  the  companion  and  lazily  follow  them,  and  half- 
a-dozen  chubby,  red-comfortered  children,  pottering  about 
on  their  own  small  skates,  would  come  after  them  with  a 
merry  hue  and  cry,  trying  to  keep  up  with  the  older  riders. 

The  town,  small  enough,  and  huddled  together,  appeared 
against  tlie  horizon  long  before  they  were  near  it.     It  lay. 


48  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

flat  amid  the  far-stretching  flatness,  with  a  steeple  here  and 
there,  first  gray,  then,  as  they  approached  sufficiently  to  see 
the  snow-patches,  all  red  and  glistening  white.  The  others 
had  been  gaining  on  them  while  they  talked,  but  after 
Joost's  rejection  of  his  friend's  advice,  they  hurried  on  in 
unbroken  silence,  Joost  skating  ever  faster,  with  a  grim 
frown  on  his  dark  face,  and  Kees  keeping  up  with  him  as 
a  point  of  honor.  As  they  neared  the  town,  however, 
Kees  slackened  his  sjieed,  and  Joost  looked  round  at  him, 

"  I  think  we'd  better  wait  for  the  others,"  puffed  Kees. 
"Politer,  you  know." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Joost,  "  You're  beat.  But  all  right ;  I'll 
wait." 

"  Oh  very  well,"  laughed  van  Ilessel.  "  It's  quite  true. 
"We've  been  going  too  fast  for  any  sensible  man  these  last 
ten  minutes,  and  that's  my  opinion." 

So  they  made  up  what  quarrel  there  may  have  been,  and 
skated  back  very  leisurely  to  pick  up  the  others,  talking  of 
University  affairs  the  while.  Joost's  face  did  not  cloud  over 
again,  till  he  saw  Agatha  coming  up,  still  hand  in  hand 
with  van  Asveld. 

The  Jonker  Arthur  van  Asveld  was  a  fellow-student  of 
the  other  young  men,  and  in  their  set.  When  they  first 
went  up  to  the  University  he  had  highly  disapproved  of  the 
admission  of  a  medical  student  into  a  club  of  "  jurists,"  and 
had  loudly  expressed  his  disajoproval.  Of  course  some  one 
had  told  Joost.  He  was  not  himself  a  very  attractive  per- 
sonage, but  in  accordance  with  Kees's  candid  confession,  he 
could  scarcely  be  called  an  unpopular  one.  He  was  very 
stupid  and  boasted  of  his  stupidity,  he  was  very  impecunious, 
and  lived  on  his  debts  and  his  losses  at  play.  He  was  very 
corpulent,  and  thereby  proved  a  claim  to  good-nature.  He 
was  fairly  good-looking  and  extremely  licentious.  He  had  a 
good  many  claims  to  popularity  in  the  circle  in  which  for- 
tune had  set  him.     The  Jonker  Arthur  was  a  connection  of 


THE  ICE-PARTY.  49 

the  Baron's,  being  the  son  of  that  gentleman's  cousin.  He 
had  come  up  to  Utrecht  from  an  out-of-the-way  village 
where  his  widowed  mother  tried  to  keep  up  her  rank  on 
£500  a  year.  The  Jonker  now  spent  seven  or  eight  hundred 
at  the  University. 

•  •••••• 

There  was  quite  a  merry  company  of  them  round  the 
luncheon  table  of  the  hostelry  of  the  "  Golden  Cow."  A 
long  table  in  a  low,  sanded  parlor,  a  white  earthenware  serv- 
ice of  coffee-things  and  a  shining  black  slop  basin,  plenty 
of  double  rolls — "  cadets,"  as  they  call  them,  mealy,  pasty, 
nasty  things — with  thick  slices  of  red  beef  or  Dutch  sweet 
cheese  between  them,  and  a  dish  of  oranges  to  wind  up  with. 
Good  spirits,  glowing  cheeks,  and  keen  appetites;  what 
would  you  have  more?  The  Jonker  Arthur  asked  for  a 
pick-me-up. 

Mevrouw  van  Hessel,  portly  and  commanding,  sat  with 
the  kettle  in  the  little  burnished  peat-stove  beside  her, 
overlooking  the  company.  She  did  not  approve  of  Annemie 
— the  beauty — 's  tendency  to  flirt.  It  was  an  imported  cus- 
tom, she  thought,  and  not  an  improvement  on  the  silent, 
still  Dutch  manner  of  old.  Still  less,  however,  did  Mev- 
rouw approve  of  her  spouse's  inclination  to  follow  his 
daughter's  example.  Bettekoo  had  brought  a  friend,  a 
charming  young  thing  of  seventeen,  in  swansdown  and 
curls.  Mevrouw  promised  herself  to  speak  to  van  Ilessel 
at  some  more  convenient  time. 

Verrooy,  Mevrouw's  son-in-law,  had  come  over  with 
them.  There  was  not  much  to  be  said  of  Verrooy.  He  was 
"  Secretary  "  to  the  Board  of  tlie  Village  of  lloest,  because 
his  father-in-law  was  Burgomaster  of  the  village  of  Heist, 
and  because  the  son  of  the  Burgomaster  of  the  former 
place  wanted  to  bo  appointed  to  tlio  Board  of  the  latter. 
It  was  very  simple.  Some  day  he  would  become  Burgo- 
master of  some  other  village,  when  he  had  money,  or  influ- 


50  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

ence  enough,  to  get  the  place.  Verrooy  was  not  clever. 
He  could  skate  well,  and  he  had  a  fine,  light-blond  mus- 
tache. "  It  had  not  been  a  very  good  match,"  thought 
Madame  van  Hessel,  as  she  looked  across  at  her  son-in-law 
eating  bread  and  cheese.  "Agatha  must  do  better,  but 
then  Agatha  was  good-looking,  not  so  fine  a  girl  as  Annemie 
but  far  better  than  Clara,  who  had  something  that  was  al- 
most a  cast  in  her  eye.  Clara's  had  been  a  love-affair.  She 
had  surrendered  to  Verrooy's  mustache,  and  now  the 
mustache  bored  her.  Oh,  those  love  affairs,  they  always 
turn  out  badly." 

Joost  sat  between  Agatha  and  Annemie,  and,  in  a  fit  of 
caprice  and  shyness,  flirted  with  Annemie.  It  was  a  mistake 
on  his  part,  for  Agatha  naturally  turned  to  her  other  neigh- 
bor and  bestowed — not  her  sweetest  smiles,  for  Agatha  was 
certainly  not  a  flirt — but  such  second-best  sweet  smiles  as 
she  had  on  the  Jonker  van  Asveld.  Arthur  was  delighted, 
and  grinned,  and  paid  her  such  compliments  as  he  found  in 
his  repertoire,  compliments  which  had  already  often  de- 
lighted the  ladies  he  usually  spent  his  evenings  with.  They 
did  very  well,  he  thought,  brushed  up  and  burnished,  to  set 
once  more  before  an  honest  girl. 

"  Well,  Joost,''  cried  out  Mynheer  van  Hessel  from  his 
end  of  the  table,  his  volatile  mind  suddenly  "  butterflying  " 
away  from  the  rosebud  next  to  him.  "  Kees  tells  me  you 
beat  him  in  skating  this  morning.  So  much  the  better ;  I 
congratulate  you."  He  lifted  up  his  coffee-cup  and  flour- 
ished it  gracefully  toward  Joost — "  I  drink  to  you  gentle- 
men of  the  medical  profession.  You  remember  the  old 
saying :  Medicina  autem  est  ccrs  tuencli,  etc.  La  medecine 
est  Vart  qui  tuey  He  laughed  heartily  over  his  own  joke. 
It  was  an  old  friend  that  had  gone  through  life  with  him, 
and  he  loved  it  accordingly.  He  could  not  have  remem- 
bered when  first  they  met. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Joost.     He  was  beginning  to  find 


THE  ICE-PARTY.  51 

the  fat  Burgomaster  rather  a  nuisance.    He  turned  again  to 
Annemie. 

But  Mvnheer  van  Hessel  was  a  born  button-holer.  He 
could  not  bear  to  let  you  go,  till  you  tore  your  coat  in  es- 
caping. "  You  must  excuse  me,  you  know,"  he  went  on, 
"  I  have  always  had  a  prominent '  os  humoris,''  a  mouth  for 
humor,  as  you  doctors  say,  and  I  like  my  little  joke.  I  was 
remarking  only  yesterday — " 

"  Did  you  say  anything  ?  "  Joost  asked  abruptly  of 
Agatha. 

"  I  should  like  a  little  water,"  the  latter  answered 
meekly. 

Mynheer  van  Hessel  was  left,  open-mouthed,  in  the 
middle  of  his  recital  of  yesterday's  witticism.  Two  young 
men  had  swooped  with  a  rush  toward  a  bell-rope  in  a  cor- 
ner ;  four  legs  and  four  arms  had  got  remarkably  inter- 
mingled ;  there  was  a  clutch  at  the  rope,  a  violent  peal,  and 
then  the  whole  concern  came  down,  and  the  antagonists 
rolled  up  against  the  wainscoting  together,  with  outstretched 
arms  and  exclamations.  "  Damned  clumsy,"  hissed  stout 
van  Asveld  in  Joost's  ear.  "  It  was,"  Joost  whispered  back, 
"  only  :  balls  will  roll,  you  know."  A  peal  of  laughter 
greeted  this  misadventure. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  the  Burgomaster.  "  A  ring 
for  Agatha?     There  Joost  has  the  first  right."  * 

When  they  got  up  from  table  to  go  and  see  the  quaint 
old  town  and  the  ruins  of  the  castle,  Bettekoo — Benjamin, 
as  her  father  called  her — ran  up  to  him.  She  was  full  of 
excitement  and  animal  spirits  that  day,  what  with  the  cold 
and  the  fun.     "  We  can't  all  troop  along  like  a  flock  of 

*  For  the  satisfaction  of  the  captious  reader  who  objects  that  tlie 
Burgomaster  spoke  Dutch  his  poor  little  pun  is  here  given  in  the 
original :  "  Luiden  voor  Agaatje.     Dat  mag  Joost  bezorgen." 

D 


52  JOOST  AVELI^'GH. 

sheep,  papa,"  slie  cried.  "  You  must  let  me  marshal  you 
like  a  school-mistress.  Mamma  will  take  Verrooy,  papa  -will 
go  Avith  Jennie  (the  young  charmer  in  svvansdown),  Kees 
may  have  me,  Joost  will  take  Agatha — " 

"  But  will  Agatha  take  Joost  ?  "  interrupted  the  Burgo- 
master. 

There  was  a  moment's  awkward  pause.  The  wretched 
man  availed  himself  of  this  to  make  matters  worse  by  add- 
ing :  "  Pom'  ceci  et  cela  il  faut  Men  etre  dexix.'''' 

"  Thank  you,  no,  Bettekoo,"  said  Joost,  hastily  flushing 
and  stuttering.  "  You  must  really  excuse  my  disobeying, 
but  I  have  already  arranged  with  Annemie." 

And  so  Arthur  van  Asveld  went  with  Agatha.  She  had 
now  been  tied  to  him  for  several  hours  and  was  getting  very 
weary  of  his  inane  conversation.  Mevrouw  van  Hessel 
looked  on,  concernedly.  The  excursion  was  not  one  of  un- 
mixed pleasure  to  the  good  lady.  She  had  some  serious 
objections  to  Joost,  but  she  disaj)proved  utterly  and  unmiti- 
gatedly  of  van  Asveld.  ' 

Agatha's  difficulties,  as  it  happened,  were,  however,  by 
no  means  over.  The  party  ultimately  retraced  their  stejos 
to  the  river,  and,  the  girl  having  lingered  to  speak  to  her 
mother,  it  so  chanced  that,  when  she  came  down  to  the 
bank,  she  found  both  young  men  looking  out  for  her,  and 
casting  terrible  glances  at  each  other.  Both  advanced  simul- 
taneously ;  both — exactly  at  the  same  moment — bent  down 
to  fasten  her  skates. 

"  Excuse  me,  van  Asveld,"  said  Joost  in  a  voice  which 
he  in  vain  sought  to  steady,  "  it  is  my — er — privilege  to  help 
the  Fi-eule  with  her  skates." 

"  By  what  right  but  impertinence  ?  "  queried  van  Asveld. 
"  If  the  Freule  allows  me  to  assist  her,  I  shall  do  it." 

"  Mynheer  van  Asveld,"  cried  Joost,  suddenly  dropping 
out  of  the  familiar  "  thou,"  "  you  will  leave  this  skate  to  me." 
He  seized  hold  of  it  as  he  spoke. 


THE  ICE-PARTY.  53 

"  M3'nheer  Avelingh,"  replied  Arthur,  scornfully  accentu- 
ating the  "  Mynheer,"  "  you  are  probably  crazy.  " 

"  It  is  like  you,"  said  Joost  quietly,  "  to  quarrel  before 
ladies.     Let  the  Freule  decide  for  herself." 

Agatha  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  Their  angry 
faces  warned  her  to  settle  the  dispute  at  once.  She  ad- 
dressed Arthur.  "  Then,  Mynheer  van  Asveld,  if  you  will 
be  so  kind — " ;  she  turned  to  Joost,  "  because  you  know,  I 
know  you  longest,  Joost." 

It  was  rational  and  graceful  enough,  surely,  but  Joost 
walked  off  in  high  dudgeon.  She  eyed  him  in  despair,  for, 
she  felt,  that,  were  it  only  for  appearances'  sake,  she  could 
not  again  ride  all  the  way  home  with  van  Asveld. 

Practical  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  came  to  her  rescue.  She 
had  come  to  the  river-bank  to  see  them  off,  and  now  she 
called  Joost  to  her.  "  Will  you  start  with  Agatha,  please," 
she  said,  "  while  van  Asveld  attends  to  Bettekoo."  So  Ar- 
thur, much  to  his  disgust,  had  to  remain  behind  with  "  that 
child." 

Joost  and  Agatha  skated  off  in  silence,  side  by  side. 
Joost  offered  no  assistance,  but  glowered  straight  in  front  of 
him.  His  companion  was  not  a  very  efficient  skater,  and 
after  they  had  gone  some  distance,  she  stumbled,  and  would 
have  fallen,  had  he  not  caught  her.  They  righted  them- 
selves with  some  dithculty,  Joost  stamping  himself  straight 
on  his  skates  again. 

"  Would  you  give  me  a  hand  ?  "  asked  Agatha,  humbly. 

He  held  out  both,  with  no  very  good  grace,  and  they 
skated  on  again. 

They  liad  turned  a  corner  and  passed  under  an  old  wood- 
en drawbridge.  The  glow  and  sparkle  had  gone  out  of  the 
landscape.  The  sun  hung  low,  and  half-way  veiled,  behind 
a  line  of  pink  clouds.  The  whole  scene  was  gray  and  cold 
and  hazy.  There  is  nothing  so  ashen  and  death-like  as  the 
sunset  of  a  fine  wintor's  day. 


54  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

They  had  skated  on  for  nearly  an  hour  in  silence.  They 
had  distanced  all  the  others,  for  Joost  dragged  Agatha  for- 
ward, and  were  now  apparently  quite  alone  amid  that  misty 
waste  of  snow. 

"  And  you  flirt,"  burst  out  Joost,  suddenly,  "  with  one, 
and  the  other.  A.  for  my  fan ;  B.  for  my  gloves !  And, 
later  on,  I  daresay,  A.  for  my  hand,  B.  for  my  heart !  You 
are  a  bad  girl,  Agatha  ! " 

It  was  very  childish.  And  what  did  Agatha's  flirtations 
matter  to  him  ?  He  had  been  ruminating  the  subject  all 
day. 

Provoked  by  Kees's  advice,  disgusted  with  Mynheer  van 
Ilessel's  stupid  banter,  he  had  only  just  now  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  very  circumspect.  The  Burgomaster's  hints, 
especially,  provoked  him.  They  had  led  him  firmly  to  re- 
solve to  make  no  advances  to  Agatha  van  Hessel.  "  No,  he 
was  not  the  man  to  be  bullied  in  matters  of  that  kind.  He 
would  show  the  Burgomaster  that  he,  Joost  Avelingh,  was 
no  fool.  He  would  marry  whom  he  chose,  and  as  he  chose, 
and,  however  much  he  loved  her,  he  would  not  propose  to 
Agatha  at  any  man's  bidding  or  prompting — not  he." 

The  sudden  attack  on  Agatha  was  childish  under  any 
circumstances.  She  was  inclined  to  be  very  angry,  and  give 
him  such  answer  as  he  had  deserved.  But,  after  all,  Joost 
was  Joost.  They  had  known  each  other  from  childhood, 
almost  as  brother  and  sister ;  she  could  take  a  good  deal 
from  him  that  she  would  not  have  borne  from  another.  And 
she  stole  a  look  at  his  dark  face,  looking  so  cross  and  hand- 
some with  the  black  eyebrows  knit,  and  the  mouth  set 
square  under  the  little  black  mustache.  Poor  fellow,  how 
good  and  silly  he  was.    She  pitied  him  and  his  foolish  anger. 

"  Joost ! "  she  said  gently,  reproachfully,  with  a  world 
of  tender,  laughing,  half-vexed  consolation  in  the  word 
"  Joost ! " 

She  turned  her  kindly,  clear  blue  eyes  upon  him.     He 


WEIGHED   IX   THE  BALANCE.  55 

thought  he  liad  never  seen  her  look  so  bewitching  as  now, 
in  her  tight-fitting  sealsliin.  A  little  ear  lay  close  to  him, 
resting  on  the  liglit  fur  collar,  and  her  masses  of  yellow  hair 
were  coiled  under  a  sealskin  cap, 

"  Agatha,"  he  burst  out,  "  I  love  you.  And  that's  why  1 
And  that's  all." 

They  skated  on.  He  held  both  her  hands,  and  she  could 
not  well  withdraw  them  without  falling.  He  pressed  them 
— that  was  unnecessary — and  she  could  not  well  return  the 
pressure  without  accepting  him. 

She  returned  it. 

They  skated  on.  He  bent  his  tall  form  and  kissed  her. 
There  were  icicles  in  the  little  black  mustache  and  in  his 
wavy  hair.  Nineteen  and  twenty-one,  and  a  winter's  even- 
ing. A  sinking  sun  and  a  violet  haze ;  a  pale  heaven  with 
a  single  star  in  it,  and  a  gleaming  stretch  of  ice  across  a 
boundless  snow  plain.  She  rested  her  head  on  his  shoulder, 
against  the  shaggy  peajacket. 

And  so  they  skated  on. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WEIGHED    IX   THE    BALANCE. 

When  the  van  Hessels  turned  the  corner  from  which 
they  could  see  their  house,  the  first  object  that  met  their 
view  was  Joost  Avelingh  standing  on  the  "  stoop." 

"  Dear,  dear,  how  tiresome  !  "  said  Mevrouw  to  Mynheer. 
"  I  suppose  he  is  waiting  for  an  invitation  to  dinner.  It 
really  appears  to  me  that  we  have  been  seeing  too  much  of 
that  young  man  lately." 

Mynheer  van  Hesscl  lay  dozing  in  his  corner.     He  knew 


56  JOOST  AVELINGII. 

he  was  in  disgrace.  Ever  since  they  had  set  down  their  last 
guest  a  few  minutes  ago,  he  had  pretended  to  be  asleep. 
Madame  had  a  way  of  ticking  the  middle  finger  of  her  right 
hand  against  the  back  of  her  left  when  she  was  displeased. 
She  was  ticking  now. 

"  You  will  not  ask  him,"  said  Madame. 

"  No,  no ! "  answered  the  fat  Burgomaster,  cautiously 
opening  one  eve.  "  Oh,  no  !  Quite  enough  gayety  for  one 
day." 

"  Quite  enough  tomfoolery,"  began  Madame,  severely. 
The  Burgomaster  shut  his  eye  hastily  and  buried  his  red 
face  in  his  furs. 

The  carriage  drove  up  to  the  house.  Joost  came  for- 
ward, astrakhan-cap  in  hand,  with  a  beaming  face. 

"  It  w%as  very  good  of  you  to  wait,"  said  Madame,  as  he 
helped  her  to  alight.  "  You  should  not  have  done  that 
merely  to  say  good- by.  Good-by  " — she  held  out  her  hand 
at  the  door. 

The  Burgomaster  came  tumbling  out  after  his  wife. 
"  Joost,"  he  said,  "  Oh  yes.  Capital  fun,  wasn't  it  ?  Hope 
you  enjoyed  yourself.     Good-by ! " 

"  Mynheer  and  Mevrouw,"  said  Joost,  "  I  have  proposed 
to  Agatlia,  and  she  has  accepted  me." 

Mevrouw  van  Hessel  was  a  fine  woman,  a  big  woman,  a 
woman  of  the  world,  with  a  handsome  face  and  bearing, 
despite  her  increasing  girth.  She  turned  slowly  half-way  in 
the  hall-door  and  looked  at  Joost.  She  looked  at  him.  His 
eyes  fell. 

"  Bravo,"  said  Mynheer  van  Hassel.     "  So  far  so  good.'* 

"  So  far,"  said  Mevrouw.  "  Perhaps.  But  no  farther, 
at  least  to-day.  These  subjects,  as  you  know  very  well,  are, 
as  a  rule,  first  discussed  with  the  young  lady's  parents." 

"  I  thought  that  Mynheer  had  already  sufficiently  sig- 
nified his  consent,"  stammered  Joost. 

Mevrouw  shifted  her  ground.     "  Quite  enough  has  been 


WEIGHED  IN  THE   BALANCE.  57 

done  for  to-day,"  she  replied,  "  if  not  too  mucli.  You 
can  come  up  to-morrow  and  speak  to  Mynheer.  Good- 
by!" 

She  walked  into  the  hall.  Mynheer  followed  after,  but, 
as  he  passed  through  the  doorway,  he  turned  round  and 
winked  at  Joost.  And  so  that  young  gentleman  went  home, 
consoled  for  Mevrouw's  "  brutal  behavior." 

"  I  will  not  talk  on  the  subject  to  you  to-day,  Agatha," 
said  Mevrouw,  as  she  stood  dressing  for  dinner.  "  No,  I 
positively  refuse  to  give  any  opinion.  You  have  thought  fit 
to  act  and  ju<lge  for  yourself,  so,  really,  you  can  not  be 
much  concerned  to  know  my  impressions.  I  must  speak  to 
your  father  first,  above  all  things.  I  suppose  you  remember 
that  he  is  half-way  in  his  studies,  and  not  at  all  clever  at 
them,  and  that  he  has  not  a  penny.  In  my  days  girls  con- 
sulted their  mothers.  I  consider  it  very  unmaidenly  and 
immodest  to  act  otherwise.  There,  there.  It  all  comes  of 
reading  English  novels.  But  I  must  speak  to  your  father 
first." 

That  father  was  spoken  to  in  the  privacy  of  the  connu- 
bial chamber.  "  It  all  comes,"  said  Mevrouw,  "  of  your  fool- 
ing, van  Hessel.  I  can  not  imagine  what  has  possessed  you 
during  the  last  week  or  two.  Since  Santa  Claus  evening 
you  have  been  in  this  stupid  mood.  It's  not  to  your  credit. 
What  with  Joost,  and  that  little  Jennie  what's  her  name, 
you  have  made  a  fine  exhibition  of  yourself  to-day." 

"  My  dear,"  the  Burgomaster  ventured  to  remark,  "  you 
are  unreasonably  jealous,  like  all  lovely  women.  As  for 
Joost,  Agatha  might  do  worse." 

"  It  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me,"  Mevrouw  went 
on,  to  herself  in  the  glass,  "  how  the  big  world  continues  to 
be  governed  by  Majesties,  and  the  little  world  by  Most 
AVorsliipfuls,  whose  wives  know  them,  and  appreciate  them. 
My  dear,  could  you  be  so  obliging  as  to  tell  me  how  long 


58  JOOST   AVELIXGH. 

Joost  and  Agatha  are  to  be  engaged,  and  what  they  are  ulti- 
mately to  live  on  ?  " 

Mynheer  stepped  up  to  Mevrouw,  and  twice  or  thrice  sol- 
emnly shook  his  finger  in  her  face.  He  looked  so  knowing 
and  so  stupid,  she  laughed  in  spite  of  herself,  and  caught 
his  fat  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  your  husband  is  not  so  stupid  as 
you  tliink.  He  should  say,  with  all  deference  to  your  supe- 
rior wisdom,  that  Joost  and  Agatha  will  live  on  old  van 
Trotsem's  money." 

"  When  old  van  Trotsem  is  dead,  and  has  left  it  to 
them,"  remarked  Mevrouw,  contemptuously. 

"  I  am  in  a  position  to  affirm,"  said  the  Burgomaster, 
falling  into  the  tone  he  assumed  at  Board  Meetings,  "  that, 
to  begin  with,  the  old  gentleman's  health  is  not  nearly  as 
good  as  people  usually  think.  That,  however,  is  neither 
here  nor  there.  But  I  have  also  every  reason  to  believe 
that,  dead  or  alive,  van  Trotsem  looks  upon  Joost  entirely 
as  a  son." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Madame,  doubtfully. 

"  If  I  confide  a  secret  to  you,  I  lose  it,"  continued  her 
talkative  spouse. 

She  smiled.  She  may  have  had  one  or  two  secrets  from 
him  ;  he  certainly  had  none  from  her. 

"  But  it  may  not  be  going  too  far  to  tell  you  that  about 
a  month  ago  I  had  some  business  to  transact  with  van  Trot- 
sem.    He  made  a  good  job  of  it." 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  interposed  Mevrouw. 

"  Not  to  my  disadvantage,  my  dear.  There  was  a  third 
party.  Well,  when  it  was  over  I  congratulated  him,  as  we 
walked  away.  '  What's  the  use  of  the  money  to  me  ? '  says 
he ;  '  I  must  go  and  leave  it'  '  Not  just  yet ! '  I  said.  With 
that  he  mumbled  :  '  H'm,  H'm.  There's  no  one  but  Joost. 
I've  only  got  Joost,  and  a  thousand  florins  more  or  less 
won't  matter  much  to  him  ! '     I  have  never  known  him  so 


WEIGHED   IN  THE   BALANCE.  59 

talkative  iu  these  fifty  years  and  more.  It  must  have  been 
the  successful  bargain ;  and  perhaps  the  consciousness  that 
'  all's  not  right  inside," — the  Burgomaster  tapped  his  manly 
breast. 

"  And  that,"  said  Madame,  "  that,  and  the  doctor's  chat- 
ter, accounts  for  your  tone  these  last  few  weeks." 

"  It  does,  my  dear,  that,  and  my  natural  affection  for 
Joost  and  Agatha.  I  love  Joost  as  my  own  son.  And  I 
flatter  myself  that  I  have  brought  the  two  dear  children 
together,  and  managed  the  whole  business  wisely  and  well." 

"  What  you  say  about  Joost's  prospects  proves  nothing," 
said  Mevrouw,  "  nothing  definite  at  alL" 

"  Definite  !  No,  my  dear,  but  it  gives  us  ground  to 
work  on."  The  Burgomaster  began  leisurely  settling  a 
white  cotton  nightcap,  with  an  imposing  tassel,  over  the 
gray  fringe  round  his  bald  head.  "  I  shall  tell  Joost  to- 
morrow that  I  will  speak  Avith  his  uncle.  All  will  depend 
u-pon  that.  I  must  have  the  old  gentleman's  word  of  honor 
— word  in  writing,  that  is  better — littera  scripta  manet^  you 
know,  with  regard  to  his  plans  for  Joost  both  now  and 
afterward.  All  will  depend  upon  that ;  it  is  the  sine  qua 
non." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Madame. 

"  I  don't  myself  think  there  will  be  much  difficulty,  or  I 
should  not  have  gone  so  far  with  Joost.  The  old  gentleman 
told  me  at  the  time  that  he  thought  young  men  should 
marry  early.  '  Marry  and  settle  down,'  he  said,  '  it's  too 
late  afterward : '  and  he  looked  quite  unhappy,  poor  old 
wretch." 

"  He  is  a  very  disagreeable  creature,  and  very  rude,"  said 
Mevrouw.  "  I  suppose  he  wouldn't  specially  object  to 
Agatha  ?  " 

"  Why  should  he  ?     You  remember  about  my  sister  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  So  he  can't  disapprove  of  the  family  ;  and  why  should 


60  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

he  ?  I  should  say  we  were  quite  half-way  between  him  and 
Joost." 

"  Well,"  said  Mevrouw,  "  we  must  wait  and  see.  I  can 
not  say  I  approve  of  the  whole  thing.  There  is  much  to  be 
said  against  it." 

"  There  is,  my  dear,"  remarked  Mynheer,  lifting  himself 
up  on  his  pillow  to  look  for  the  extinguisher.  "  And  there- 
fore, if  you  understood  Latin,  I  should  immediately  say  to 
you  :  '  Audiatur  et  altera  pars  !  '  and  you  would  admit 
that  I  was  right.  Van  Trotsem  must  be  a  very  rich  man ;  I 
should  value  him  at  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  a  year  * 
at  the  least." 

And  he  put  out  the  candle. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE   CLAIMS   OF    RANK. 

Joost  Avelingh  drove  back  to  the  Castle,  with  his 
head  in  a  whirl.  He  drove  fast,  recklessly  fast,  as  was  his 
habit  when  under  strong  excitement.  His  agitation  will  be 
forgiven  him  by  all  who  have  ever  been  in  a  similar  posi- 
tion ;  and  to  few  men  has  the  great  decision  come  so  sud- 
denly. But  an  hour  or  two  ago,  he  had  been  firmly  resolved 
to  wait,  and  do  nothing  in  a  hurry.  If  anything  could 
have  kept  him  back,  it  would  have  been  Mynheer  van  Hes- 
sel's  manner,  but  how  charming  and  innocent  and  thor- 
oughly girlish  she  was  when  she  looked  up  at  him  and  said 
"  Joost ! "  There  was  a  little  mockery  in  it,  perhaps,  never 
mind ;  there  was  plenty  of  affection  and  good-nature.     Who 

*  About  £12,000. 


THE  CLAIMS  OP  RANK.  61 

could  resist  her?  Not  he.  And  so  he  was  actually  en- 
gaged ! 

He  did  not  make  mnch  of  Mevrouw's  objections.  Per- 
haps it  would  have  been  better  for  him  if  he  had.  It  is  not 
always  good,  as  has  been  often  remarked  before  now,  for  the 
course  of  true  love  to  run  too  smoothly  at  first.  And  Joost's 
was  true  love.  Did  he  doubt  it  ?  No,  no ;  if  he  ever  doubt- 
ed, it  was  not  on  that  first  evening,  when  he  drove  home  all 
aglow,  through  the  cold. 

He  went  up  straight  to  his  room  and  dreamed  all  night 
of  Agatha.  What  with  the  day's  fatigue  and  excitement,  he 
overslept  himself..  It  was  half  past  ten  when  he  walked  into 
the  dining-room,  and  saw  the  remnants  of  his  uncle's  meal. 
The  old  man  breakfasted  jiunctually  at  eight,  and  could  not 
bear  his  nej)hew  not  to  be  present.  Joost  strolled  out  on  to 
the  terrace,  and  the  first  thing  he  became  aware  of  was  a 
chaise  coming  up  the  avenue.  It  drew  rapidly  nearer,  and 
he  soon  recognized  Arthur  van  Asveld  in  the  driver. 

During  the  first  half  of  his  homeward  journey  yesterday, 
silent  anj  angry  at  Agatha's  side,  he  had  been  full  of  plans 
to  shoot,  smasli,  horsewhip  or  otherwise  damage  the  fat  body 
of  the  Jonker,  but  now,  standing  there,  and  watching  his 
rival,  he  felt  quite  magnanimous  toward  him. 

"  Good-day,  van  Asveld,"  he  called  out.  "  Coming  for 
some  more  shooting  ?     Can't,  while  the  snow  lasts." 

"  I  know  that,"  the  Jonker  gave  answer,  in  a  far  less 
cheery  voice,  "  I  should  say,  on  the  whole,  that  I  might 
know  as  much  about  shooting  as  you  do.  Is  Cousin  Dirk 
in  V  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Joost. 

The  Jonker  jumped  down.  "  I  want  to  see  him,"  he 
said.     "  Tell  some  beggar  to  announce  me,  please." 

It  was  not  by  any  means  the  first  time  the  Jonker 
called  at  the  Castle.  He  had  made  a  i)oint  of  looking  up 
his  distant  relative  as  soon  as  he  came  to  tlio  T'niversity. 


62  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

He  had  got  on  very  well  with  the  old  Baron.  In  many 
points,  in  fact,  he  got  on  far  better  than  Joost.  His  tastes 
were  rough  and  uncultivated  like  van  Trotsem's;  he  enjoyed 
a  round  oath,  a  coarse  joke  and  a  good  glass  of  wine.  He 
came  to  dinner  once  or  twice  in  that  lonely  house,  and  kept 
the  grim  old  man  in  a  roar  with  his  stories  all  the  time. 
Joost  sat  silent  and  disgusted.  The  guest  was  not  afraid  to 
speak  out,  and  give  as  good  as  he  got.  He  abused  the  wine 
roundly  once,  and  the  old  noble  actually  sent  down  for  the 
best  that  he  had  in  his  cellar.  Next  time  Arthur  asked  for 
"  that  Rothschild,"  and  got  it.  He  asked  for  an  invitation 
to  shoot  over  the  j^lace,  and  got  that  too.  He  was  a  capital 
shot  and  a  thorough  sportsman.  His  heart  was  in  it.  When 
the  Baron  discovered  that,  he  was  truly  and  unfeignedly  de- 
lighted. They  went  out  together  for  hours.  (The  doctor 
had  told  van  Trotsem  to  give  up  shooting ;  but  the  old  man 
obeyed  neither  this  nor  any  other  advice.)  When  they  came 
home  to  dinner,  the  Baron  ordered  up  a  couple  of  bottles  of 
champagne,  and  they  discussed  the  day's  adventures  enthu- 
siastically, until,  what  with  the  lateness  of  the  hour  and  the 
excellence  of  the  wine,  Arthur  had  to  spend  the  night  at 
the  Castle.  The  old  man  liked  him,  after  a  manner.  It 
may  be  doubted  whether,  in  his  heart,  he  did  not  esteem 
Joost  far  higher,  but  he  liked  to  have  the  other  with  him  at 
times. 

"  And  what  brings  you  here  this  morning  ? "  the  Baron 
said,  as  his  visitor  entered  the  room.  "  No  shooting,  with 
this  weather,  at  any  rate." 

Arthur  was  not  at  all  pleased  to  see  how  every  one  con- 
nected his  appearance  at  the  Castle  with  shooting,  and  with 
shooting  only.  He  sank  down  in  an  armchair,  without  wait- 
ing to  be  asked. 

"  I  have  not  come  about  shooting,  Cousin  Dirk,"  he  said, 
"  I  have  come  to  see  you." 

The  old  man  wheeled  round  in  his  chair.    "  See  me ! "  he 


THE  CLAIMS  OP   RANK.  63 

said,  fixing  his  protuberant  eyes  full  on  Arthur.  "  There's 
not  much  to  see  in  me.  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  come 
all  this  way  to  look  at  me  ?  I  never  was  much  to  look  at,  and 
I  don't  imjDrove,  I  fancy,  as  years  go  on." 

"  There's  nothing  more  to  see,"  said  Arthur  imperturb- 
ably,  "  than  an  old  Dutchman  who  looks  every  inch,  what 
he  is,  a  gentleman,  and  tlie  representative  of  one  of  the 
greatest  families  in  the  country.  That's  all.  But  I  didn't 
mean  that.  I  meant  I'd  come  to  call  on  you  and  talk 
with  you  about  some  matters  chiefly  interesting  to  my- 
self." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  Baron. 

"  They  concern  you  too,  however.  Cousin  Dirk,  because, 
after  all,  I'm  one  of  the  few  relations  you've  got.  I've  never 
asked  you  for  money  yet ;  have  I  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  Baron,  "because  you  know  you. wouldn't 
get  it.  I  can't  go  giving  all  you  young  men  a  dollar  to-day 
and  a  gold-piece  to-morrow." 

"  Quite  true,"  remarked  Arthur.  "  You  don't  mind  my 
smoking,  do  ^ou?  Pretty  well  accustomed  to  smoke,  this 
room  is,  isn't  it  ?  Quite  true.  And  I  haven't  come  to  ask 
for  a  dollar  now.  Heaven  knows  I'm  beastly  poor,  but  I 
don't  want  any  of  your  money,  while  things  go  on  as  they 
are." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  asked  the  Baron,  "  that  you  have 
come  to  ask  me  for  it  when  I  am  dead  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Arthur  witli  a  certain  warmth,  "  I  do 
not.  Look  here.  Cousin  Dirk.  I've  been  wild  enough  these 
last  years.  I'm  sick  of  it.  I'm  no  good  at  the  University. 
Any  fellow  would  be  wild  in  my  damned  circumstances. 
There's  no  use  in  behaving  myself.  I've  got  no  money.  If 
I  settled  down  respectable,  the  regular  thing,  and  all  square, 
and  married — I  shouM  have  to  marry  :  I  couldn't  do  it  with- 
out— Look  here,  Cousin  Diik,  I  may  as  well  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it — Would  you,  for  the  sake  of  our  relationship, 


64  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

and  the  name  I  bear,  and  all  that,  pay  off  my  debts,  and 
give  me  a  fresh  start  in  life." 

"How  much  would  do  it?  "asked  the  Baron,  sittinsf 
bolt  ujiright  in  his  round  desk-chair,  and  twinkling  his 
eyes  under  their  bushy  eyebrows.  There  was  a  wicked 
gleam  in  them,  but  the  guileless  youth  could  not  see  that. 

"  The  debts,"  said  Arthur,  "  would  tot  up  to  about  twen- 
ty thousand  odd."  * 

"  And  then  there  would  have  to  be  something  like  the 
same  sum  to  buy  you  an  occupation  of  some  kind." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Damn  you  !  "  suddenly  screamed  the  old  man,  opening 
his  eyes  wide  enough  now,  till  they  almost  seemed  to  start 
out  of  his  head.  He  whisked  his  chair  round  again ;  his 
face  was  purple.  "  Damn  you ;  have  you  anything  more  to 
ask  ?     Damn  your  impudence  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Arthur  was  very  much  taken  aback  by  this  outburst,  and 
considerably  disappointed,  but  he  did  not  lose  his  presence 
of  mind.  "  I  meant  what  I  said,"  he  answered  coolly. 
"  Don't  damn  me,  if  you  please,  sir.  There's  never  been 
another  gentleman  damned  since  the  devil  was.  And  I 
won't  stand  it." 

"  I  shall  say  what  I  choose,"  shouted  the  old  Baron,  ex- 
asperated. "  Leave  the  room  and  the  house  this  moment ; 
or  I'll  send  for  a  servant  to  turn  you  out."  A  handbell  stood 
on  his  desk.     He  stretched  out  his  arm  to  it. 

Van  Asveld  rose  from  his  lazy  attitude.  "  'No,  sir ! "  he 
said  in  a  loud  voice.  "  Gentlemen  can  settle  their  disputes 
without  treating  menials  to  cheap  amusement."  He  drojiped 
his  voice  and  his  dignified  manner  almost  immediately. 
"  Trust  me,"  he  continued,  rolling  a  loosened  leaf  round  his 
cigar.  "  Nothing  helps  the  socialists  more  than  our  quar- 
reling before  the  servants.    If  you  consider  my  troubles,  and 

*  £1,655. 


TOE   CLAIMS  OF   RANK.  65 

the  misfortune  of  my  race,  food  for  rage  or  amusement,  so 
be  it.  It  is  not  my  fault  that  I  misjudged  you.  If  Joost 
Avelingh — "  he  hesitated. 

"  What  about  Joost  Avelingh  ?  "  asked  the  old  man.   "  No 

lies ! " 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  tell  them,"  replied  the  other  haught- 
ily. "  Joost  Avelingh  is  not  a  gentleman,  you  will  admit 
that.  I  am ;  and  I  had  hoped  that,  speaking  to  one  of  the 
first  gentlemen  in  the  kingdom,  I  should  have  been  under- 
stood. I  had  surely  a  right  to  presume  that,  loving  your 
own  name  as  you  do,  you  might  have  some  indulgence  for 
my  love  of  mine." 

The  old  man  shifted  his  gaze  uneasily.  Arthur  saw  his 
advantage,  and  followed  it  up. 

"  I  am  an  unfortunate  gentleman,"  he  said  hurriedly, 
"  doubly  unfortunate  in  being  so  poor  and  so  well-born. 
I  have  never  asked  you  for  a  penny.  I  did  not  come  here 
to-day  to  beg.  I  came  to  concert  with  a  gentleman  of  equal, 
of  superior  rank,  my  relation,  what  means  could  be  employed 
to  save  an  honorable  name — a  name  he  bears  among  his  own 
quarterings — From  disgrace.  I  wish  you  a  good  day.  Cousin 
Dirk." 

"  Hist,"  said  tlie  old  man,  "  come  back  !  sit  down ! 
What  do  you  want  ?  I  won't  give  you  money.  Whom  do 
you  wish  to  marry  ?  Have  you  got  any  one  ?  Marry  a  rich 
girl." 

"  Who  will  have  me  ?  "  said  Arthur.  "  I  don't  want  to 
marry  a  poor  one,  but  I  don't  want  to  marry  for  money.  I 
was  thinking  of  Agatha  van  Hessell.  They're  very  well  oil, 
are  they  not.  Cousin  Dirk?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  van  Trotsem,  "  I  have  my 
doubts  about  van  Hessel.  He  lives  in  good  stylo  and 
spends,  I  should  tliink,  more  than  his  income !  We  shall 
see !    We  shall  see  !  " 

"  Tlicn  I  won't  have  her.     And  if  vou  care  for  the  hint, 


06  JOOST   AVELIXGH. 

cousin,  mind  Joost  doesn't  pick  up  my  leavings.  Start  me 
fairly  in  life,  and  I'll  propose  to  Jennie  Melasse.  I  met 
her  only  yesterday ;  her  father  was  a  sugar-planter ;  but 
you  can't  have  everything,  and  I  dare  say  he'll  consider  the 
coronet  worth  paying  well  for." 

"  You'll  have  money  enough  if  you  get  her,''''  said  the 
Baron.  "  It's  your  business,  not  mine.  I  won't  give  you  a 
half-penny  at  this  moment ;  so  it's  no  use  asking.  But  I 
tell  you  what.  I  don't  mind  promising  that,  for  the  name's 
sake — for  the  name's  sake,  mind,  not  for  yours,  you  scoun- 
drel— I'll  remember  you  handsomely  in  my  will.  You  can 
trade  upon  that,  if  you  like,  with  old  Melasse,  or  the  Jews. 
I  don't  think  I  shall  last  long ;  and  I've  nobody  in  par- 
ticular to  leave  my  money  to." 

Arthur  looked  crestfallen.  "  Thank  you.  Cousin  Dirk," 
he  said,  "  and  that  is  irrevocably  all  ?  " 

"  Irrevocably  all,"  replied  the  Baron,  turning  to  his 
papers,  "  and  I  shall  damn  you,  if  I  choose." 

Arthur  held  out  his  hand  with  a  bow.  "  Do  so,  Cousin 
Dirk,"  he  said.     "  Only  mind  you  don't  damn  yourself." 


CHAPTER   YIII. 

THE    CLAIMS    OF    LOVE. 

The  Baron,  left  alone,  found  plenty  of  food  for  his 
thoughts.  One  idea,  however,  soon  floated  uppermost. 
"Mind  Joost  doesn't  pick  up  my  leavings."  The  sugges- 
tion seemed  to  move  him  strangely.  He  rang  his  hand-bell. 
"  Is  Mynheer  Joost  up  now  ?  "  he  asked  the  servant.  Myn- 
heer Joost  was  sent  for.  The  man  found  him  pacing  up 
and  down  his  room  with  long  strides.     He  had  just  given 


THE  CLAIMS   OP   LOVK.  O7 

orders  for  his  horse  to  be  saddled.  He  was  going  to  ride 
over  to  his  interview  with  Mynheer  van  Hessel. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  old  man,  when  Joost  appeared  be- 
fore him.  "  Sit  down.  Did  you  enjoy  yourself  yesterday?" 
He  talked  on  for  some  time  quite  kindly  about  the  ice-jiarty, 
so  kindly  that  Joost  thawed  and  gave  an  account  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. He  might  have  enjoyed  such  a  rare  talk  with  his 
uncle,  had  it  not  been  that  his  thoughts  kept  flying  off  to 
the  coming  ordeal,  and  had  it  not  been,  also,  for  the  rooted 
dislike  which  made  all  intercourse  with  the  old  man  so  irk- 
some to  him.  Since  the  great  wrong  the  Baron  had  done 
him,  three  years  ago,  the  cup  of  Joost's  bitterness,  daily  fed 
with  fresh  aloe,  overflowed.  Their  relations  had  not  im- 
proved of  late  years.  All  Joost's  thoughts  of  his  uncle  were 
influenced  by  his  dislike  of  the  profession  to  which  that  un- 
cle's wish  had  condemned  him,  and  the  old  man's  feeling  for 
Joost  underwent  the  daily  influence  of  the  nephew's  tacit 
avoidance  and  dislike.  Their  paths,  once  parted  to  right 
and  left,  now  led  them  farther  apart  the  longer  they  pur- 
sued them. 

"  And  were  there  any  pretty  girls  ?  "  asked  the  Baron. 
He  was  trying  to  manoeuvre,  and  he  thought  himself  won- 
derfully skillful. 

"  There  was  Jenny  Melasse,"  said  Joost  carelessly.  "  Some 
people  think  her  very  good-looking.  Mynheer  van  Hessel 
seemed  to  be  of  that  opinion." 

"  Well,  the  Hessel  girls  are  not  much  to  look  at,  except- 
ing Annemie.  Now,  Agatha  I  should  consider  quite  a  plain 
girl."  He  said  this,  oh  so  slily,  and  stole  a  cunning  look  at 
his  nephew  out  of  his  wicked  old  goggle-eyes. 

Joost  was  silent. 

"  Should  you  not,  Joost,  call  Agatha  van  Hessel  quite  a 
common-looking  girl  ?  " 

"  N — n — no,"  said  Joost,  "  I  should  not  consider  her 
that." 


68  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

The  old  man  talked  on  about  tlie  van  Hessels,  with  awk- 
ward questions  and  remarks.  Joost  sat  on  thorns.  He  w^as 
most  anxious  to  put  off  any  discussion  of  the  subject  with 
his  uncle  till  after  he  had  seen  the  Burgomaster.  He  tried 
to  turn  the  conversation,  but  in  vain.  The  Baron  reverted 
to  Agatha,  her  flirtations,  her  marriage  prospects,  till  Joost 
felt  it  would  be  neither  honest  nor  prudent  to  conceal  the 
truth  any  longer.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  once 
or  twice  with  rapid  strides ;  then  he  came  and  stood  with 
his  hand  on  his  uncle's  chair.  After  all,  this  was  his  only 
relation ;  the  house  was  the  home  of  his  life.  His  heart  felt 
very  tender  at  that  moment. 

"  Uncle,"  he  said  quite  softly.  The  old  man  pricked  up 
his  ears  at  the  change  of  voice.  "  Uncle,  I  don't  want  to 
deceive  or  distrust  you.  I've  a  very  important  subject  to 
speak  to  you  about,  a  very  dear  subject  to  me.  What  would 
you  say,  my  good  uncle — would  you  be  very  angry  with  me 
if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  love  Agatha  van  Hessel — be  she 
pretty,  be  she  plain — and  want  some  day  to  have  her  for  my 
wife?" 

There  was  no  response.  Tlie  Baron's  face  was  turned 
away,  but  Joost  could  hear  him  puffing  and  snorting.  At 
last  came  the  words  :  "  I  should  say,  Joost,  it  can't  be." 

They  were  practically  as  unexpected  at  that  moment  as 
they  were  foreseen  in  theory.  Joost  had  dreaded  but  little 
opposition  from  the  young  lady's  parents ;  he  dreaded  none 
from  his  Uncle  Dirk.  But  he  kept  his  temper,  fortunately. 
"  Not  just  yet,  of  course,  uncle,"  he  said,  still  softly,  "  I 
quite  understand  that  I  must  be  ready,  and  earning  my  live- 
lihood somehow,  as  a  doctor  " — he  gave  a  slight  shudder — 
"  before  I  can  marry  her.  But  I  could  be  engaged  to  her. 
as  is  the  case  so  often,  and  make  her  my  wife  as  soon  as  I 
am  able  to  do  so." 

"  It  can't  be,  Joost,"  said  the  old  Baron,  still  sitting  in 
the  same  attitude.     "  Nor  now,  nor  ever.     If  it  could  be 


THE  CLAIMS  OF   LOVE.  (59 

done  at  all,  it  might  as  well  be  done  now.  But  it  never 
can  be." 

"  My  dear  nncle,"  said  Joost,  still  gently,  "  I  should  like 
nothing  better  than  to  have  your  approval.  And  I  still  hope 
you  will  give  it.  What  can  we  do  otherwise  than  marry  ? 
Agatha  and  I  both  think  this  marriage  was  made  in  heaven^" 

"  Agatha  and  you  ?  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  How  far  are 
you,  pray  ?  Married  already,  perchance.  Not  valid  in 
Holland." 

"  Sir  "  said  Joost,  "  only  yesterday  evening — I  can  assure 
you,  only  yesterday  evening — was  the  subject  first  hinted 
at  between  us.  How  it  came,  I  do  not  know.  Please  do 
not  ask  me.  All  I  can  tell  is,  that  now  we  both  know  we 
love  each  other,  and  as  for  the  rest,  God  help  us  through." 
His  voice  faltered.  The  hand  that  rested  on  his  uncle's  chair 
shook  slightly. 

The  Baron  pulled  himself  together ;  also  with  a  visible 
effort.  "  It  can't  be,"  he  said  huskily.  "  You  can  never 
marry  Agatha  van  Hessel." 

Joost's  knees  gave  way  beneath  him.  Almost  unconcious- 
ly,  he  slid  down  by  the  chair  and  clasped  his  hands  across  its 
low,  round  back.  "  Uncle  Dirk,"  he  cried,  and  there  was  a 
thrill  of  entreaty  in  his  voice,  "  tell  me,  what  have  I  done  to 
you  that  you  persecute  me  thus  ?  Great  God,  whatever  my 
father's  or  my  own  sin  may  have  been,  is  a  life  of  suffering 
not  atonement  enough  ?  I  do  not  deny  that  I  have  often 
wronged  you.  Be  merciful  now.  I  have  endured  enough. 
You  are  an  old  man,  near  the  grave.  God  be  pitiful  to  you 
as  you  show  compassion.  Oh,  if  you  only  knew  how  I  want 
somebody  to  be  kind  to  me  to-day." 

He  was  altogether  unstrung,  moved  in  the  very  depths 
of  his  nature.  It  was  not  a  moment  to  weigh  his  words  or 
even  to  fully  realize  them.  He  had  a  vague  idea  they  were 
not  very  dignified.  What  of  that?  Agatha's  happiness 
was  worth  the  sacrifice  of  a  little  dignity.     His  love  was  all 


70  JOOST   AVELINGU. 

SO  young,  and  sweet,  and  tender,  he  could  have  cried  like  a 
girl  that  morning  and  not  been  ashamed  of  his  tears. 

The  old  baron  winked  his  eyes,  and  spoke  very  gruffly. 
"  It  is  your  happiness,  after  all,  which  I  seek,  Joost,"  he 
said.  "  In  my  own  manner,  after  my  own  lights,  perhaps, 
I  deem  them  best.  What  you  say  is  hard  to  hear;  we  have 
somehow  got  awry,  my  boy.  I  dare  say  some  of  it  is  my  fault. 
I  asked  you  to  trust  me  about  your  studying  medicine.  You 
never  did  so  from  the  first.  I  can  not  help  that.  And  now 
I  must  once  more  ask  you  to  trust  me  about  this  matter.  It 
is  for  your  own  happiness.  You  never  can  marry  Agatlia 
van  Hessel." 

Joost  sank  his  head  on  his  hands.     He  did  not  speak. 

"  I  swear  to  you  it  is  for  your  own  good,"  said  the  old 
Baron  solemnly. 

Joost  made  an  impatient  movement  with  his  bent  head. 

"  Damn  you,  can't  you  believe  me  ? "  cried  the  Baron, 
fretfully.  "  You  would  make  a  cart-horse  lose  patience. 
You  give  up  Agatha  from  this  moment,  do  you  hear  ?  " 

Joost  again  shook  his  head  without  lifting  it. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  ignore  my  wishes?  " 

Joost  rose  to  his  feet.  His  face  was  very  calm  and  white 
with  suffering.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  in  a  firm  voice,  "  I  shall  ride 
over  to  Mynheer  van  Hessel  to-day,  as  I  was  on  the  point  of 
doing  when  you  sent  for  me.  I  shall  tell  him  what  has 
passed  between  us,  and  I  shall  ask  him  to  let  me  marry  his 
daughter  when  I  am  twenty- three." 

"  Do,"  said  the  old  man,  trembling  with  passion,  "  and 
tell  him  from  me  that,  if  you  marry  Agatha  van  Hessel,  you 
shall  never,  living  or  dead,  have  another  penny  of  mine." 

"  I  will,  sir,"  said  Joost  calmly. 

"  Do,"  shrieked  his  uncle,  "  and  come  back  for  dinner, 
and  give  me  van  Hessel's  answer." 


"FOUND  WANTING."  71 

CHAPTER  IX. 

"  FOUND   WAI^TING." 

When  Joost  Avelingli  was  ushered  into  the  Burgo- 
master's room,  he  found  Mynheer  van  Hessel  seated  at  the 
writing-table  and  Mevrouw  by  the  window. 

Mevrouw  looked  stern  and  uncomi:)romising,  Mj^nheer 
well  satisfied  and  comical.  The  latter  motioned  Joost  to  a 
chair. 

"  Well,  my  dear  young  friend,"  he  began,  "  and  so  we 
have  been  love-making  on  the  ice !  '  The  heart  may  glow 
in  winter's  snow,'  as  the  poet  says.  And  now  we  have  got 
to  discuss  consequences." 

Poor  Joost  had  his  battle  to  fight  all  alone.  It  was  so 
true,  as  he  had  told  his  uncle,  that  he  was  thirsting  for  some 
one  to  show  him  kindness,  some  one  to  sympathize  with  him 
and  talk  the  whole  matter  over.  He  was  an  impressionable, 
warm-hearted  young  fellow,  soft-hearted  at  bottom  ;  just  the 
kind  of  still,  undemonstrative  man  who  has  every  need  of  a 
woman's  affection.  He  had  never  known  what  the  term 
meant.  He  had  never — never — felt  the  touch  of  a  woman's 
hand  on  his  forehead ;  never — before  yesterday — heard  a 
tender  word,  other  than  purely  conventional,  from  a  woman's 
lips.  He  thought,  with  a  shudder,  of  the  Swiss  nursery- 
governess  of  his  early  years.  He  was  not  by  nature  reticent 
or  unemotional ;  his  character  had  been  forced  from  its 
natural  groove  by  the  negative  influence  of  his  surroundings. 
The  sternness  of  his  dark  yonng  face ;  the  sad  look  in  those 
great  eyes  told  but  a  portion  of  the  heart's  story.  At  bot- 
tom there  was  a  half-acknowledged  yearning  for  warmth, 
brightness,  softness,  a  "  wanting  to  be  loved."  There  was 
also,  it  can  not  be  denied,  a  "  wanting  to  be  admired,"  but 
is  there  not  that  in  every  male  yearning  for  affection  ?  Only 
women  love  for  love's  sweet  sake.     And  witli  Joost  the  de- 


72  JOOST  AVELTXGH. 

sire  was  strongly  developed.  He  wanted  people  to  be  good 
to  him  and  love  him  for  what  he  was  and  what  he  did.  The 
Dutch  have  a  very  graphical  expression  for  the  whole  senti- 
ment, borrowed  from  horticulture — "  He  wanted  to  be  put 
out  in  the  sunshine,"  they  say.  Joost  Avelingh's  heart,  a 
fair  plant  enough,  and  intended  by  nature  to  bear  sweet- 
smelling,  soft-colored  flowers,  had  never  been  put  out  in  the 
sunshine. 

An  hour  or  two  ago  he  had  been  happy  and  confident 
enough,  in  spite  of  all  natural  nervousness  and  impatience. 
For  the  first  time  he  had  felt  a  woman's  affection.  It  had 
wrapped  itself  round  his  poor  numbed  heart,  and  he  felt  like 
an  outcast  in  a  blanket.  What  wonder  he  did  not  stop  to 
analyze  the  nature  of  his  feelings,  nor  inquire  too  closely  if 
the  gratitude,  the  gentle  sympathy,  he  felt  toward  this 
woman  was  exactly  and  accurately  that  particular  feeling 
men  label  "  lover's  love !  "  It  was  love,  a  strange,  new  feel- 
ing, love  to  a  woman,  reciprocated  and  revealed  in  the  inter- 
change. The  man  who,  from  his  childhood  uj^ward,  feels 
the  warmth  upon  his  heart  of  his  mother's  unfathomable 
tenderness,  his  sister's  admiring  affection,  the  friendliness  of 
more  distant  relations,  the  liking  of  his  sister's  friends,  that 
man  can  properly  distinguish  and  select,  and  say :  "  Nay, 
but,  distinctly  from  all  other  sentiments,  this  woman  I  love 
for  my  wife."  Joost  Avelingh,  when  he  saw  the  first  beam 
break  through  a  loophole,  cried  out :  "  It  is  light ! "  He  had 
liked  Kees  Hessel  and  one  or  two  other  boy  friends ;  he  had 
liked  the  van  Hessel  girls  ;  he  had  liked  some  of  the  servants 
about  the  estate ;  he  had  loved  tenderly,  truly,  the  dogs  and 
the  horses,  and  some  rabbits  he  had  had  years  ago,  and  a 
lame  squirrel  and  a  couple  of  birds ;  he  had  revered  the 
memory  of  his  dead  father  as  something  beyond,  on  the 
border,  somewhere  where  heaven  and  earth  must  meet.  He 
was  twenty-one ;  he  had  never  loved  human  soul  before. 

And  now  he  sat  there  facing  Mynheer  van  Hessel,  with 


"FOUND  WANTING."  73 

Mevrouw  a  little  in  the  background  to  his  right.  And  the 
weight  of  his  uncle's  rejection  lay  heavy  upon  him.  In- 
stinctively he  felt  that  the  fat  Burgomaster's  kindly  manner 
must  not  be  considered  to  count  for  much. 

"  And  so,"  said  the  Burgomaster,  "  we  have  got  to  con- 
sider consequences." 

"  I  imagined,  sir,"  answered  Joost,  "  that  from  what  you 
let  drop  at  intervals  I  had  a  right  to  assume  you  would 
not  look  with  disfavor  on  a  possible  suit  of  mine  for  your 
daughter's  hand."  He  had  prepared  this  speech  on  his  way 
to  the  house,  and  it  came  out  with  a  rush  and  a  hitch  in  the 
middle,  as  such  sentences  are  apt  to  do. 

The  Burgomaster  crossed  his  plump  hands  over  his  ca- 
pacious waistcoat,  and  twirled  his  thumbs.  From  Mevrouw's 
corner  came  a  quick,  subdued  little  cough.  The  Burgo- 
master looked  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  This  subject, 
broached  at  the  very  beginning,  was  the  one  on  which  he 
had  been  specially  warned  not  to  commit  himself. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  "  we  will  not  discuss  that.  Yes, 
undoubtedly,  young  ];)eople  make  love,  and  it  is  very  pleas- 
ant. There  i5  no  reason  why  they  should  not.  They  do 
not  always  marry  the  person  they  first  make  love  to.  I  my- 
self— "  another  and  a  sharper  cough  from  Mevrouw's  corner 
— "  Oh,  well,  sometimes  they  do.  So  much  the  better  for 
them,  when  they  can !  When  they  can  !  And  as  the  old 
Latin  maxim  says — " 

"  And  if  we  were  to  give  you  our  daughter.  Mynheer, 
how  would  you  expect  to  support  her  ?  "  The  words  came 
from  Mevrouw's  corner.  Joost  turned  quickly  in  that  di- 
rection. Mevrouw  sat  looking  out  of  the  window  Avith  im- 
movable face,  tapping  one  finger  on  the  back  of  her  hand. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mynheer  hastily,  "  yes,  I  was  coming  to 
that.  If  we  were  to  give  you  our  daughter.  Mynheer,  how 
would  you  expect  to  support  her?" 

Joost  turned  back  again.     "  Mevrouw,"  he  said,   Myn- 


74  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

heer, — I  beg  your   pardon, — Mevrouw,  I   should  work  for 
her." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mynheer,  "  very  true  and  very  good.  Most 
estimable.     But  you  would  have  to  work  a  good  deal." 

"  I  should  do  that,"  said  Joost. 

"  And  a  long  time.  Look  here,  my  boy,  let  us  come  to 
business,  and  be  practical.  Ask  your  uncle  when  he  can 
find  it  convenient  to  receive  me.  Then,  I  will  drive  across 
and  talk  the  whole  matter  over  with  him,  and,  when  we 
have  settled  it  all,  as  no  doubt  we  shall,  then  Agatha  and 
you  may  be  as  haj)py  as  the  day  is  long.  We  old  peoj)le, 
whose  hearts  have  done  flaring  up  and  settled  down  into  a 
steady  glow,  we  old  people  must  look  after  the  bread  and 
butter,  while  you  young  ones  go  gathering  honey.  Even  St. 
John  couldn't  live  on  honey  alone.  It's  very  provoking  and 
prosy,  but  it  has  to  be  seen  to.  So  I'll  learn  what  your  uncle 
says  first.'- 

Joost  had  been  shifting  about  on  his  chair  trying  in  vain 
to  check  the  Burgomaster's  eloquence.  "  I  can  spare  you 
the  trouble,"  he  burst  out  at  the  first  opportunity,  "  I  have 
spoken  to  my  uncle  already." 

"  Already !  Dear  heaven,  how  impatient  these  young 
people  are  !  With  all  the  world  before  them !  And  what," 
said  the  Burgomaster  smiling,  "  what  does  your  uncle  say?" 

"  That  if  I  marry  Agatha  van  Hessel,  I  shall  never,  liv- 
ing or  dead,  have  another  penny  of  his." 

"  What ! "  cried  the  Burgomaster,  dropping  his  hands 
from  his  lap  and  starting  forward.  Mevrouw  turned  her 
head  from  the  window. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  moment ;  then  both  spoke  at  once. 

"Why  won't  he  have  you  marry?"  said  the  father. 

"  How  dare  he  not  approve  of  my  daughter ! "  said  the 
mother. 

Joost  looked  backward  and  forward.  "  He  refuses  his 
consent  to  my  marriage,"  he  said,  "  because  he  resists  any- 


"FOUND   WANTING."  Y5 

thing  and  everything  that  conlcl  bring  me  a  spark  of  happi- 
ness. He  refuses  it,  because  it  is  the  one  interest  and 
amusement  of  his  life  to  make  me  wretched.  He  hated  my 
father  for  the  life-long  wrong  he  fancied  my  father  had  done 
him,  and  the  one  object  of  his  hate  has  been  to  wreak  that 
wrong  on  me  in  a  life-long  misery.  It  is  my  right,  and 
my  duty,  to  tell  you  this." 

He  paused.  His  auditors  sat  silent.  "  But  I  will  baffle 
him,"  he  continued  more  brightly,  "  and  you  will  help  me, 
will  you  not  ?  Mynheer  and  Mevrouw,  we  do  not  want  his 
consent.  I  am  twenty-one.  Before  I  have  finished  my 
studies  I  shall  be  twenty-three.  Before  I  am  able  to  sup- 
port Agatha  I  shall — "  he  smiled  a  pitiful  little  smile — "  be 
a  good  deal  more,  I  fear." 

"  The  idea,"  said  Mevrouw,  "  of  his  not  thinking  our 
daughter  good  enough  for  his  nephew  ! " 

"  It  is  not  that,  I  can  assure  you,"  cried  Joost.  "  Tlie 
better  the  matcli,  the  worse  he  would  like  it.  Did  he  not 
force  me  to  study  medicine  because  he  saw  I  was  bent  on  a 
legal  career  ?  He  would  consent  to  my  marrying  a  scullery- 
maid.  He  thinks  Agatha  too  good  for  me ;  indeed  it  is 
that,  Mevrouw !  And  he  is  right  there,"  added  poor  Joost 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  That  does  not  matter  much,"  said  M3mheer  with  an 
impatient  wave  of  the  hand.  "  As  matters  now  stand,  it  is 
evident — " 

"  I  will  work  for  her  !  "  cried  Joost.  "  What  do  we  want 
the  old  man  for?  I  don't  ask  you — Heaven  knows — to  let 
me  marry  Agatha  before  I  can  support  her.  I  only  ask  you 
to  let  me  work  and  wait.  Hundreds  do,  surely !  I've  not 
got  on  as  well  as  I  might  till  now,  it's  true.  But  this  is  dif- 
ferent.    I  shall  work  differently  if  I  work  for  Agatha !  " 

The  Burgomaster  looked  down  at  his  embroidered  slip- 
pers. Their  intricate  pattern  interested  him.  The  usually 
loquacious  man  was  unpleasantly  silent. 


76  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  Hundreds  do  it ! "  repeated  Joost.  "  Only  let  us  be  en- 
gaged, and  have  this  object  in  view.  It  will  help  me  with 
my  studies !  It  will  show  my  uncle  you  do  not  want  his 
support ! " 

Again  there  was  a  short  silence.  Mevrouw  broke  it. 
"  Perhaps,"  she  said  kindly,  "  your  uncle's  opinion  may 
change.  Perhaps  you  have  vexed  him  about  something. 
The  best  thing  will  be  for  Mynheer  van  Ilessel  to  see  him 
about  the  matter  before  we  decide  upon  anything." 

Joost  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  When  my  uncle  says  a 
thing  like  that  he  means  it,"  he  replied.  "  You  will  not  get 
him  to  change.     He  bade  me  give  you  his  message." 

"  Then,"  said  Mynheer  briskly,  suddenly  finding  his 
tongue,  "  there  must  be  an  end  of  this.  Fooling  is  all  very 
well  and  wholesome,  but  not  too  much  of  it.  There  are 
comedy-marriages  and  marriages  in  real  life.  In  the  latter 
kind  the  couples  have  something  to  live  on.  And  if  it  is 
true,  Joost  Avelingh,  that  you  are  a  penniless  young  man 
with  no  reasonable  chance  of  ever  being  anything  else — well, 
I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  but  you  know  the  old  proverb : 

'  Enough  breeds  moi'e  :  but  all  confess 
That  nothing's  child  is  nothingness.'  " 

"Am  I  to  understand,"  asked  Joost  when  he  could 
speak,  "  that  you  refuse  me — incontinently  and  irremedia- 
bly refuse  me — your  daughter's  hand,  unless  my  own  holds 
my  uncle's  money-bags  ?  "  There  was  a  slight  touch  of  con- 
tempt in  his  tone. 

"  You  put  it  very  melodramatically,"  said  the  Burgo- 
master.    "  Yes." 

"  But  I  love  her !  "  cried  Joost,  "  I  love  her !  We  don't 
want  more  money  than  will  do  to  keep  us.  We  shall  earn 
that  in  time." 

"  You  are  silly,  Avelingh,"  said  the  Burgomaster,  "  posi- 
tively silly.      '  Perpffe  .«?/r  sa  fete  pnrfait  un  pot  de  lait.'' 


"FOUND  WANTING."  77 

Make  the  best  of  it.     We  don't,  as  I  remarked  just  now,  all 
marry  our  first  love." 

"  Mynheer !  Mevrouw  !  I  told  you  it  was  my  uncle's 
one  object  in  life  to  make  me  suffer.  He  has  been  success- 
ful enough  till  now,  heaven  knows.  And  are  you  going  to 
help  him  to  be  successful  to  the  end  ?  " 

"  You  are  melodramatic,  I  tell  you,"  began  the  Burgo- 
master angrily. 

"  Mevrouw,  you  have  been  kind  to  me  for  many  years. 
You  and  yours  have  been  pretty  much  the  only  people  who 
ever  showed  me  kindness.  And  are  you  going  to  turn 
against  me  now  ?  " 

Mevrouw  did  not  answer. 

"  I  tell  you  I  love  her  and  will  work  for  her  ! "  cried 
Joost,  starting  up.  "And  Agatha!" — he  veered  round 
suddenly  and  came  toward  her.  "  Agatha !  She  loves  me 
too !  She  has  told  me  so !  What  will  you  answer  your 
daughter?" 

The  Burgomaster  had  seized  upon  the  opportunity  Joost 
gave  him,  and  jjad  risen  also.  "  Come,  come,  Avelingh,  be 
a  man,"  he  said.  "  This  must  end.  His  autem  rebus 
peractis  domicm  profectus  est^ 

Avelingh  came  toward  him.  "  What  will  you  answer 
your  daughter  ?  "  he  said. 

"  ^ly  daughter  will  ask  no  questions,"  replied  the  Burgo- 
master coolly,  opening  the  door  as  he  spoke,  "  nor  will  she 
make  any  ayrangements  for  herself  until  she  is  thirty.  Re- 
member that.  '  C.  C*  article  so  much,'  as  we  used  to  say 
at  college." 

"  I  will  never  give  her  up,"  said  Joost,  as  he  passed  out. 

Mynheer  came  back  to  Mevrouw.  ''  Ilnj^leasant,"  he  said, 
"  tiresome.  Very  absurd.  And  really  rather  insolent,  mt 
fomir 

*  Civil  Code. 


78  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

Mevrouw  did  not  answer. 

Mynheer  threw  himself  back  in  an  armchair.  "  II  y 
avait  un  'p'tit  amoureux,''''  he  hummed,  '•^ litit  amoureux, 
pHit  amoiireux.'''' 

"  It  is  hirgely  your  fault,"  said  Mevrouw  suddenly  and 
sharply. 

"  My  dear  !  " 

"  Yes,  your  fault.  It  is  quite  true,  as  he  said,  that  you 
egged  him  on.  You  have  flung  the  girl  at  his  head  this 
many  and  many  a  time.  We  play  a  sorry  part  in  the  bus- 
iness, Henrik." 

It  was  Mynheer's  turn  to  sit  silent. 

"  What  wonder,"  she  went,  warming  as  she  spoke,  "  that 
the  poor  thing  thought  she  had  a  right  to  love  him.  Who 
knows  in  how  fai  you  first  started  the  whole  wretched  idea 
in  her  brain?  You  have  forced  the  subject  upon  them! 
You  have  taught  them  to  love  each  other  !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  creature  !  " 

Mevrouw  sailed  toward  him.  "  He  loves  her  now,"  she 
cried.  "  It  was  pure,  honest  love  that  spoke  from  his  heart 
and  from  his  eyes.  Is  it  little,  perhaps,  that  he  is  giving  up 
for  her  sake?  All  this  money,  to  which  we  attach  so  much 
importance,  and  which  you  say  is  such  a  great  inheritance. 
He  never  even  mentioned  it.  He  counts  it  as  nothing  be- 
fore his  love  and  her  happiness." 

She  stood  before  her  husband.  There  was  that  look  in 
her  eyes — the  mother's  look — which  makes  all  women  kin. 

"  And  she  loves  him,"  she  went  on  softly.  "  If  the 
blame  be  yours,  ours,  so  must  the  responsibility  be." 

"  Nonsense  !     Wha.t  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  If  they  love  each  other  truly,  sincerely,  as  deej^ly  as 
this,  they  must  marry,  Henrik." 

"  Kidiculous ! "  cried  the  Burgomaster.  "  All  you  wo- 
men are  the  same.  Give  the  hearts  a  romance,  and  the  best 
heads  go." 


MADAME  DE   MONTELIMART.  79 

"  Who  knows  how  much  of  the  romance  is  of  your  mak- 


ing?" 


"  Pooh,  I  shall  unmake  it  then.  I  at  least  love  the  child 
too  much  to  sacrifice  her  life  to  a  moment's  folly.  What- 
ever sentimental  ideas  you  may  have,  I  know  too  well  what 
ruin  means,"  the  sentence  ended  in  something  like  a  groan. 
Such  a  sound  from  the  jovial  Burgomaster  startled  his  wife. 

"  What  ?  "  she  said.     "  How  so  ?     Ruin  ?  " 

"  ISTothing,"  he  replied  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  Only, 
'  love  may  sleep  on  straw,  marriage  wants  a  downy  pillow.' 
I  won't  have  my  daughter  marry  a  beggar ;  simply  because 
I  can't  afford  it." 

"  He  can  wait,  as  he  said.  He  can  work.  After  all,  we 
are  well  off  and  can  help  them." 

"  You  do  not  expect  him,  I  should  hope,  to  earn  much 
as  a  doctor  ?  " 

"  Heaven  knows  I  was  sufficiently  opposed  to  the  whole 
thing.     But  if  she  loves  him,  Henrik  ?  " 

"  Good  gracious,  Marian,  are  you  a  staid  Dutch  house- 
wife ?     Are  you  fifty-two  ?     Are  you — " 

"  I  am  a  woman,"  she  interrupted  with  vehemence. 
"  And  I  have  a  heart,  even  though  I  am  Dutch  !  If  they 
love  each  other  they  must  marry,  Henrik." 


CHAPTER   X. 

MADAME    DE    MONTELIMART. 

JoosT,  riding  home  at  a  tearing  pace,  saw  his  uncle 
standing  on  the  steps,  watching  him  as  he  dashed  up  the 
avenue. 

"Well?"  said  the  Baron,  with  an  ugly  leer,  "Well?" 


80  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

He  liad  bent  forward,  not  without  anxiety ;  one  look  at 
the  young  man's  face  seemed  to  reassure  him.  Joost  stood 
still  on  the  terrace.     He  flicked  his  riding-boot  with  his 

whip. 

"  And  what  does  Mynheer  van  Ilessel  say  to  your  suit  ? '' 
queried  his  uncle.  There  was  a  mocking  tone  in  the  de- 
mand, as  if  he  were  triumphing  over  somebody  or  some- 
thing, perhaps  over  his  own  anxiety  of  a  few  minutes  ago. 
Joost  applied  it  to  himself. 

"  Mynheer  van  Ilessel,"  he  said,  "  takes  the  worthy  view, 
the  practical,  common-sense,  respectable  view.  He  is  quite 
willing  I  should  have  his  daughter ;  nay,  he  is  most  anx- 
ious. He  offered  her  for  sale  himself.  But  you  must  buy 
her  for  me  !  " 

"  And  I'm  damned  if  I  do,"  said  Baron  Dirk. 

"  So  I  told  him,  sir.  And  so  he  refuses,  uncondition- 
ally, to  allow  us  to  be  happy  in  our  own  way.  And  so  we 
are  not  happy ;  we  are  miserable.  So  far,  sir,  I  suppose  you 
are  desirous  of  information.  The  rest  must  be  indifferent 
to  you.     Would  you  allow  me  to  pass  ?  " 

"  Listen,"  said  the  old  man,  striking  his  stick  against 
the  moss-grown  stones.  "  Don't  sneer  at  me.  I  won't 
stand  it.  I  suppose  you  are  very  much  cut  up  about  this 
matter '? "    , 

"  I  shall  spare  you  the  pain,  sir,  of  further  investigation 
of  my  sorrow." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  madman,  Joost  ?  " 

The  young  man  was  startled  by  the  abrupt  question.  At 
the  first  moment  a  doubt  flashed  across  his  mind  whether 
perhaps  his  uncle  felt  his  own  brain  giving  way.  And  act- 
ually, in  the  mood  he  was  in  that  day,  the  conception 
brought  him  relief.  It  would  be  better,  happier — ay,  even 
calmer — to  know  the  man  was  mad,  than  to  think  such 
thoughts  of  him  as  were  now  surging  through  Joost's  brain. 
The  flash  of  uncertainty  lasted  but  a  few  seconds;  then 


MADAME   DE  MOXTfiLlMART.  81 

came  the  revulsion  of  feeling  as  lie  thought  he  caught  his 
uncle's  meaning. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,  sir,"  he  said  scornfully.  "  It 
is  not  madness.  It  is  only  just  that  existence  of  a  heart 
which  some  men  call  disease." 

The  uncle  winced.  But  he  still  evidently  subdued  him- 
self by  a  mighty  effort.  Joost  wondered  in  a  sick,  dreamy 
way,  that  there  should  be  so  little  swearing  to-day. 

Van  Trotsem  pulled  out  his  watch.  He  was  a  dirty, 
snuffy  old  man,  and  as  he  stood  there,  unshaven,  without  a 
collar — nothing  but  a  black  silk  stock  round  his  red  neck — 
in  much  stained  black  waistcoat  and  trousers,  brown  coat 
and  green  Berlin  wool  slippers ;  as  he  stood  there,  his  pro- 
tuberant eyes  staring  at  the  great  gold  repeater  which  hung 
by  a  brown  hair-chain  from  his  neck,  he  certainly  was  any- 
thing but  an  attractive  personage.  Joost  eyed  him  with  un- 
concealed hatred  and  disgust.  The  soft  feeling  of  that  morn- 
ing was  fast  fading  away  and  making  place  for  the  old  heart- 
hardening  hate. 

"It  is  still, early,"  said  the  Baron,  "your  business  with 
the  van  Hessels  was  settled  more  quickly  than  even  I  gave 
them  credit  for.  Go  and  have  some  lunch,  Joost,  and  at  three 
be  ready  to  drive  out  with  me.  At  three  exactly,  if  you  please." 

"  Lunch  ! "  tlie  very  idea  filled  Joost  with  rage  and  scorn. 
He  lounged  into  the  dining-room,  for  want  of  something 
better  to  do,  and  eyed  the  things  on  the  table  with  very  un- 
merited, individual  contempt.  The  old  butler  crept  in  and 
placed  a  dish  before  him — his  favorite  dish,  as  he  noticed — 
lady  readers  may  care  to  be  informed  that  Joost  Avelingh's 
favorite  dish  was  an  omelette  soufflee  with  rasped  ham.  Ue 
looked  up,  annoyed  that  the  servants  should  pity  him  and 
yet  grateful  for  all  kindness,  and  said  "  Thank  you."  "  His 
master  had  ordered  it,"  said  the  num.  Joost  did  not  touch 
the  omelette,  but  he  cut  himself  a  quantity  of  meat  for  all 
that,  and  drank  several  glasses  of  wine. 


^2  JOOST  AVEI.TXdlT. 


He  went  out  on  to  the  terrace  again.  The  weather  had 
completely  changed  since  yesterday.  In  the  night  the  wind 
had  veered  round  to  the  southwest ;  it  was  thawing  as  fast 
as  it  could — and  nowhere,  perhaps,  can  it  thaw  as  fast  as  in 
damp,  changeable  Holland — the  air  felt  quite  warm  after 
the  long  cold ;  clouds  were  coming  up,  and  there  was  a  cease- 
less drip  of  melting  snow  from  the  house,  from  the  parapet, 
from  the  trees  of  the  avenue. 

The  stable-clock  struck  three,  and  at  the  same  moment 
an  open  chaise  with  a  dickey  turned  the  corner  of  the  house 
and  drew  up  at  the  steps. 

The  old  Baron  came  out  with  a  red  comforter  on.  He 
stood  a  moment  looking  at  the  landscape.  "  It's  a  good 
deal  to  give  up,  Joost,"  he  said,  encompassing  with  a  sweep 
of  his  arm  all  his  broad  acres  and  stately  forests. 

"  Sir  ?  "  replied  Joost— nothing  else. 

The  old  man  chuckled.  "  Nonsense,"  he  said,  as  he  got 
into  the  chaise,  "  we  are  not  going  to  give  that  up,  nor  any- 
thing else,  except  just  a  boy's  fancy.  Drive  on,  Joost.  To 
the  town." 

They  did  not  speak  much  on  the  way.  The  Baron  talked 
agriculture,  but  without  eliciting  much  response  from  his 
companion.  They  met  the  village  doctor  in  his  gig.  He 
shook  his  head  reproachfully,  and  he  took  off  his  hat. 

"  Damn  him,"  said  the  Baron. 

When  they  reached  the  town,  the  Baron  Dirk  began  giv- 
ing instructions,  directing  his  wondering  nephew  till  they 
drew  up  at  the  great  entrance  of  a  gloomy,  many- windowed 
building.  There  were  bars  before  all  the  windows.  Joost 
glanced  up  nervously. 

"  You  know  where  we  are  ?  "  said  the  Baron. 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost. 

"  Very  well.     Never  mind.     Follow  me." 

They  got  out.  A  porter,  with  a  grim,  stony  face  un- 
bolted and  opened  one  half  of  the  massive  door.    He  seemed 


MADAME   DE   MONTfiLIMART.  83 

to  recognize  the  Baron  and  led  them  into  a  waiting-room. 
Joost  looked  round  him  in  silent  amazement.  Had  his 
uncle  brought  him  here  to  leave  him  ?  Nonsense ;  the  idea 
was  too  absurd.  It  was  like  the  old  scoundrel  to  think  of 
such  a  thing,  but,  after  all,  he,  Joost,  was  not  a  child,  and 
the  laws  of  the  land  were  there  to  protect  him.  The  old 
man  took  off  his  coat  and  comforter.  Joost  noticed  with 
fresh  surprise,  that  he  had  made  himself  spruce,  with  a  clean 
shirt  and  collar  and  his  old-fashioned  best  suit  of  black 
clothes.  The  adventurous  instinct  which  sleeps  in  us  all 
awoke  in  Joost's  breast.     He  began  to  feel  interested. 

A  bland  gentleman  came  in  and  greeted  the  Baron. 
"  It's  a  long  time,"  he  said,  "  since  you  have  been  to  see  us. 
You  will  find  us  quite  well  and  happy.  We  are  all  com- 
fortable here  in  spite  of  circumstances.  Taking  us  all  in 
all,  I  should  say  we  are  the  happiest  community  of  fourteen 
hundred  souls  in  the  kingdom."  He  chattered  on  till  a 
smug-faced  female  in  a  dark  cloth  gown  appeared  at  the 
door.  Then  he  confided  the  Baron  to  this  person's  keeping, 
and  bowed  the  two  gentlemen  out. 

Joost  found  himself  passing  through  long,  dreary  stone 
passages,  with  a  number  of  doors  on  both  sides.  Strange 
noises  came  constantly  from  various  quarters ;  dull  thumps, 
grating  laughs,  and  occasionally  something  like  a  muffled 
shriek.  Vague  as  the  noises  were,  there  was  an  unnatural- 
ness  about  them  which  made  them  strangely  impressive. 
They  caused  Joost  to  shudder,  while  he  laughed  at  himself 
for  the  feeling.  On  the  stairs  the  little  party  met  two  men 
with  utterly  foolish,  vacuous  faces,  dressed  in  a  sort  of  gray 
prison  garb.  One  of  them  gave  a  feeble  laugh.  The  smug- 
faced  female  brushed  past  these  and,  unlocking  what  must 
have  been  the  fourth  or  fifth  door  since  they  started,  led  her 
visitors  into  a  little  square  entry.  Then  she  threw  back  a 
green  baize  screen  and  announced  in  a  loud,  harsh  voice : 
"  Mevrouw  the  Countess  receives  !  " 

F 


84  JOOST   AYELINGH. 

Following  Ills  uncle,  Joost  found  himself  in  a  good  sized, 
bright-looking  room,  against  the  windows  of  which  wide- 
spreading  branches — gaunt  and  dripping  at  this  moment — 
somewhat  obscured  the  view.  It  was  an  uncomfortable  item 
to  notice  that  the  windows  were  heavily  barred.  Otherwise 
the  room  was  cheerful  enough,  not  to  say  gaudy ;  furnished 
in  many  colored  cliintzes  and  bright  ribbons,  littered  with 
all  manner  of  knickknacks,  and  full  of  bird-cages  of  various 
shapes  and  sizes.  In  the  middle  of  the  apartment  stood  a 
little  old  lady  with  a  stiff  yellow  curl  on  each  side  of  her 
face,  attired  in  a  low-necked  red  satin  dress.  She  was  court- 
esying  profoundly.  Joost  noticed  that,  while  the  two  curls 
were  golden,  the  hair  under  the  head-dress  of  black  lace  and 
poppies  shone  forth  a  silvery  white. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Baron,"  she  said  smiling  sweetly. 
"  It  is  very  long  since  you  have  done  me  the  honor  of  a  call. 
I  was  heginning  to  feel  quite  angry  with  you." 

The  Baron's  eyes  seemed  to  goggle  more  than  ever.  His 
face  was  once  more  purple ;  his  heavy  eyebrows  twitched 
nervously. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  Mevrouw  de  Montelimart  to  remem- 
ber," he  said. 

The  little  lady  waved  her  hand.  "  Excuse  me,"  she  said, 
"  the  Countess  de  Montelimart.  I  bear  my  title.  I  find  it 
is  necessary  to  do  so  here  and  to  insist  upon  it.*  Excuse 
me.     Pray  be  seated,  Baron." 

There  must  have  been  two  or  three  dozen  birds  in  the 
room,  large  and  small.  A  green  parrot  sat  on  a  perch  near  his 
mistress.  Two  canaries  settled  down  on  her  shoulder-knot. 
The  twittering  and  whistling  was  deafening.  "  Hist,"  said 
the  Countess,  with  another  wave  of  her  hand,  as  she  sat  down. 
Complete  silence  immediately  fell  on  the  whole  company. 

*  Titles  of  nobility  are  never  given  in  Dutch  conversation,  except 
bv  inferiors. 


MADAME   DE   MOXTELIMART.  85 

"  They  are  not  all  my  children,"  said  the  Countess  apol- 
ogetically. "  Joko  is  " — with  a  wave  at  the  parrot.  "  And 
so  are  Elvire  and  Elmire  " — the  same  movement  toward  the 
canaries — "but  the  others  are  people  of  position  in  the 
neighborhood  where  I  now  live.  You  may  have  met  some 
of  them  in  society,  before.  They  always  come  to  my  recep- 
tions. It  is  very  fortunate,  Baron,  that  you  should  just  have 
come  on  my  reception-day.     Or  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Oh — ah — oh — yes,"  said  the  Baron. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  little  old  lady,  "  I  always  send  out 
my  cards.  My  maid," — another  wave  of  the  hand  at  the  at- 
tendant, who  sat  sullenly  looking  out  of  the  window — "  my 
maid  sees  to  that.  Elvire  show  the  Baron  van  Trotsem  how 
you  are  progressing  with  your  music.    Elvire,  sing !  " 

One  of  the  canaries  burst  into  a  warble  on  his  mistress's 
shoulder.  She  sat  listening  intently  and  nodding  her  head 
approvingly,  but,  half-way  in  the  performance,  the  melody 
evidently  got  too  irresistible  for  little  Elmire's  feelings,  and 
he  too  lifted  up  his  voice  and  sang.  A  flame  of  fury  flashed 
into  the  Countess's  eyes ;  in  an  instant  she  struck  the  little 
beast  a  blow  which  sent  him  rolling  off  his  perch.  "  Obedi- 
ence," she  said,  apologeticalh^  bending  over  to  the  Baron, 
"  is  the  mother  of  indiscretions." 

The  Baron  nodded  approval. 

"  You  have  forgotten,"  she  said  very  severely,  when  she 
had  stopped  the  canary's  singing,  "  to  introduce  your  son  to 
me.     I  can  not  allow  that." 

"  Good  gracious,  no,"  cried  the  Baron,  "  I  beg  your  par- 
don, my  dear  countess.  I  most  humbly  beg  your  pardon. 
This  is  my  nephew,  Joost  Avelingh." 

"  I  knew  he  was  your  son  at  once  by  the  likeness,"  said 
the  Countess  de  Montelimart,  smiling  sweetly  on  Joost. 
"  Besides,  I  had  heard  of  your  marrying  again.  I  had  a  son 
of  my  own  once,  young  gentleman,"  she  continued  turning 
to  Joost,  "sucli  a  flnr%  hinid'^onic  oroiifnre.      Tii    the  full 


86  JOOST   AVELIXGH, 

bloom  of  health  and  beauty.  And  such  a  voice.  His  name 
was  Dirk.  Oh,  how  I  loved  him  ! "  A  tear  trickled  down 
the  poor  Countess's  cheek, 

"  And  he  is  dead,  madame  ?  "  said  Joost  sympatheticall)^ 

"  He  is,"  sighed  the  Countess.  "  He  died  of  the  pip,  but 
the  doctor  promised  me  he  would  have  him  buried  in  the 
garden.  Xo  wonder  your  father  is  proud  of  you,"  said  the 
Countess.     "  It  is  a  fine  thing  to  have  a  son." 

She  began  to  cry  so  copiously  and  continuously  that  the 
attendant  interfered.  "  There's  Joko,"  she  said  in  a  rough, 
coarse  voice.     "  Isn't  Joko  your  son  ?  " 

The  Countess  broke  into  sudden  smiles.  "Joko,"  she 
said.     "  Show  the  gentlemen  what  you  can  do." 

"  Scratch  my  head,"  said  the  parrot. 

"  How  dare  you  !  "  cried  his  mistress,  once  more  in  a  vio- 
lent passion.  "  Every  parrot  can  say  that,  and  no  gentleman 
would  say  it.     Something  else.     Quick  ! " 

"  Long  live  King  \Yilliam ! "  croaked  Joko.  "  Long  live 
King  "William !  Long  live  King  William,  and  the  devil 
take  the  nurse  !  " 

"  Hush !  hush ! "  said  the  Countess,  with  a  frightened, 
cunning  look  toward  the  attendant.  "  I  can't  imagine  who 
taught  him  to  say  that.  It's  very  wrong,  Joko,  and  very 
improper.     Consider  yourself  in  disgrace." 

She  turned  to  the  window.  Her  bright  little  eyes  never 
rested  for  one  moment.  "  Refreshments  !  "  she  said,  with 
that  imperious  wave  of  the  hand.  The  woman  got  up, 
sullenly  again,  and  went  toward  a  cupboard.  She  extracted 
therefrom  some  empty  glasses  and  decanters,  and  a  biscuit- 
tray,  and  placed  them  on  a  little  table  by  the  Countess's 
sofa. 

"  Will  you  take  Port  or  Madeira?  "  asked  that  lady  with 
her  hand  on  an  empty  decanter.  "  I  am  sorry  I  can  not  offer 
you  bitters.  They  only  allow  them  to  the  men.  It  is  very 
unfair,  I  consider." 


MADAME   DE  MONTELIMART.  87 

The  Baron  and  Joost  gravely  chose  Port  wine  and  took 
their  empty  glasses.  She  seemed  a  little  put  out  by  Joost's 
not  selecting  a  different  wine  from  his  uncle. 

"  I  shall  take  Madeira  myself,"  she  said.     "•  The  rest  of 

the  company  prefer  biscuits."     There  were  one  or  two  on 

,  the  tray,  she  broke  olf  a  bit  and  gave  it  to  Joko,  who  plumed 

himself  at  this   nnexpected    sign  of    returning  favor  and 

winked  his  wicked  black  eyes. 

"  The  gentlemen  and  ladies  are  very  well  behaved,"  re- 
marked the  Baron. 

"  Are  they  not '?  "  she  said,  with  a  pleased  look.  "  Oh 
yes,  I  teach  them  good  manners.  And  I  have  to  clean  all 
their  cages  myself.  Is  that  not  hard  ?  Do  you  not  think," 
another  cunning  look  at  the  attendant,  "  that,  with  all  the 
money  I  am  paying  here,  they  might  give  me  some  one  to 
clean  my  cages  for  me  ?  " 

The  old  Baron  stared  in  embarrassment. 

"  But  I  find  time  for  other  things,"  continued  the  Count- 
ess. "  Look  at  this — "  She  took  up  a  piece  of  fancy-work 
lying  near.  "  Look  at  this,  and  tell  me  honestly,  sincerely 
— now  mind  you  tell  me  the  truth — don't  you  think  this  is 
very  well  done  for  a  madwoman  ?  "  She  looked  anxiously 
into  her  visitors'  faces.  The  parrot  took  up  the  last  word 
and  yelled  again  and  again :  "  A  madwoman !  A  mad- 
woman !  A  madwoman  !  " 

The  Baron  rose  with  an  ill-concealed  shudder. 

"  It  is  very  clever,"  he  said,  "  very  ingenious.  Yes,  quite 
so.     I  fear  we  must  be  going,  my  dear  Countess." 

"Going?  Already?"  There  was  a  look  of  positive 
pain  on  her  face.  "  I  so  seldom  have  anybody.  Could  you 
not  stay  a  little  longer?"  She  caught  hold  of  his  arm  and 
clung  to  it.     The  attendant  drew  nearer. 

"  Don't  go ! "  said  the  Countess,  "  don't  go." 

"  I  must  to-day.     I  shall  come  and  see  you  again  !  " 

"  Don't  go.  Dirk,"  entreated  the  poor  creature,  clinging 


88  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

to  him  as  they  went  toward  the  door ;  "  don't  go !  don't  go ! 
I  am  not  happy  here."  She  dropped  her  voice  to  a  whisper. 
"  They  are  not  good  to  me.  Look !  " — she  pointed  to  several 
blue  bruises  on  her  naked  arms ;  those  bruises  had  fasci- 
nated Joost  from  the  first — "  she  did  that  " — her  voice 
dropped  to  a  wliisper — "  She  often  does  it.  Never  mind. 
Hush !  She  won't  let  me  have  Pears'  soap  in  my  tea.  The 
doctor  expressly  told  me  I  was  to  have  Pears'  soap  and  no 
other.  It  is  matchless  for  the  hands  and  complexion," — 
"  A  madwoman  ! "  yelled  the  parrot.  "  A  madwoman  !  The 
devil  take  the  nurse." 

The  attendant  showed  them  out.  "  I  presume  she  told 
you  I  ill-treated  her,  sir,"  she  said,  in  an  indifferent  voice. 
"  They  all  do.  It  is  a  symptom."  Joost  looked  into  her 
smug,  villainous  face  and  felt  sure  the  charge  was  true. 

They  passed  back  through  the  same  gloomy  passages 
alive  with  half-smothered  shrieks  and  laughs  and  blows.  In 
the  parlor  the  director  joined  them.  "  I  hope  you  found 
the  patient  looking  well,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a  sad  case,  an  in- 
teresting case,  very  interesting.  It  must  be  about  forty 
years  now  that  she  has  been  with  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Baron,  "  forty-two.  I  hope  slie  is  happy. 
I  trust — I  do  trust — she  is  happy." 

"  Oh,  she's  happy  enough ! "  said  the  doctor,  coolly. 
"  Never  fear,  my  dear  sir.  I  dare  say  she  has  been  telling 
you  she  is  ill-treated.  They  all  do.  It  is  a  symptom.  Per- 
fectly absurd,  you  know.  Impossible.  Government  insti- 
tution. Government  inspectors.  Assistant  doctor  looks  in 
daily.     Now  really,  you  know,  perfectly  absurd." 

Joost  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief  when  the  open  door  fell 
to  behind  them  and  he  heard  the  porter  fixing  the  bolts. 
He  took  the  reins  and  drove  off. 

"Well?  "said  his  uncle,  who  had  been  watching  him 
closely. 

Joost  gave  a  long  shudder.     "  Why  did  you  bring  me 


THE  CUP  FLOWS  OVER.  89 

there  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Have  I  not  had  enough  to  torment  me 
already  to-day  ?  Great  Heaven,  what  a  place !  It  is  the 
very  portal  of  hell." 

'*  Then  you  would  not  like  to  live  in  such  surroundings  ? 
Not  like  to  come  much  in  contact  with  anything  of  the 
kind  ?  " 

Joost  did  not  answer  the  question,  which  seemed  to  him 
to  be  devoid  of  meaning.  He  was  extremely  agitated.  It 
seemed  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  hold  the  reins.  His  was, 
as  has  been  said,  an  impressionable,  tender  heart,  and  the 
actual  vision  of  that  suffering  with  all  its  hidden  possibilities 
had  moved  it  to  its  foundations.  What  psychical  agony, 
what  physical  torture  did  that  long,  gloomy  building  in- 
close ?  The  inhabitants  of  the  town,  passing  by,  would  look 
up  with  a  smile  and  nod  to  each  other  :  "  The  madhouse  ! 
Yes !     Fortunately  so  admirably  managed,  you  know  ! " 

Joost  shuddered  again.  On  any  other  day  he  might  have 
borne  the  sight  better,  but,  unnerved  as  he  was  already  by 
preceding  events,  he  felt  that  this  was  more  than  he  could 
bear.  And  his  uncle  watched  him  closely,  silently.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken  till  they  were  half-way  home. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    CUP   FLOWS   OVER. 

There  was  no  more  talk  of  agriculture;  the  old  man 
sat  muttering  to  himself  and  scowling.  Presently  he  asked : 
"  How  old  are  you,  Joost?    Twenty-one,  are  you  not?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Joost. 

"  /  was  twenty-one,"  said  tlio  Baron  ;  and  that  was  all. 

The  cloud  had  thickened  and  dropped  while  thoy  were 


90  .      J  OUST  AVELINGH. 

paying  their  visit.  It  now  began  to  drizzle.  "  Xo,  no.  No 
putting  up  the  hood,"  said  the  Baron  to  the  groom  in  the 
dickey.  "  We're  not  made  of  sugar,  any  of  us."  It  was  rain- 
ing fast  by  the  time  they  reached  the  house.  The  Baron 
got  out,  and  stumbled  on  the  steps.  He  would  have  fallen, 
had  not  Joost  supported  him.  "  It's  nothing,"  he  said, 
"  nonsense.  Only  a  little  giddiness.  Hang  the  doctor.  He'd 
make  a  man  think  he  was  dying,  ten  years  before  his  time." 
He  looked  at  his  watch  under  the  hall-lamp.  "  Ten 
minutes  to  six,"  he  said.  "  Near  dinner  time.  Hurry  up. 
I  feel  quite  hungry." 

•  •••••• 

Joost  scowled  at  his  own  white  face  in  the  glass,  as  he 
stood  washing  his  hands.  The  excitement  of  the  visit  to  the 
madhouse  had  kept  him  up.  He  was  now  asking  himself 
what  it  meant,  without  being  able  to  find  a  solution.  Did 
his  uncle  mean  to  get  him  locked  up  there,  unless  he  obeyed 
him  ?  Impossible.  And  yet — with  influence  !  Absurd. 
Did  he  intend  to  warn  him,  while  there  yet  was  time,  think- 
ing— as  no  doubt  he  thought — that  Joost  was  on  the  high 
road  to  madness  already.  Yes,  that  must  be  it.  Joost  smiled 
bitterly  at  himself,  and  the  glass  smiled  back.  He  was  nearer 
crime,  he  thought,  than  insanity. 

Now  he  was  home  again,  the  whole  misery  rushed  back 
upon  him.  Was  it  possible  that  he  could  sit  so  calmly  next 
to  his  uncle  in  the  carriage,  sit  opposite  him  at  table,  with 
this  hate  burning  down  into  his  heart  ?  Could  such  a  state 
of  thiuors  continue  ?  Could  he  live  with  the  man  whose  one 
object  seemed  to  be  to  destroy  his  life  and  cause  him  suffer- 
ing. Xo,  said  Joost  to  himself,  as  he  blew  out  his  candle 
and  went  downstairs.  He  resolved  very  decidedly,  though 
as  yet  without  any  further  particularization,  that  this  pres- 
ent condition  of  affairs  must  end.  With  or  without  Agatha, 
he  must  go  out  into  the  world  and  earn  his  own  bread. 

The  large  dining-room  was  lighted  up.    There  were  can- 


THE  CUP  FLOWS  OVER.  91 

dies  in  the  sconces,  and  a  bright  oil  lamp  hung  over  the 
square  table  with  its  massive  silver  centerpiece.  The  Baron 
was  already  seated  at  the  head  of  the  table.  Behind  him 
stood  the  butler.     Joost  sat  down  opposite. 

"  Is  it  raining  still,  Jakob  ?  "  said  the  Baron. 

"  Raining  fast,  sir." 

Joost  refused  the  soup.  The  Baron  cast  a  sharp  glance 
at  him  and  poured  himself  out  another  glass  of  wine.  He 
was,  as  his  nephew  noticed,  still  dressed  in  that  Sunday  suit 
he  had  put  on  for  his  visit  to  the  madhouse.  He  tucked  his 
white  napkin  under  his  chin,  probably  to  save  his  clothes. 
It  made  his  red  face  stand  out  the  more. 

Joost  refused  the  second  course.  The  Baron  cast  another 
look  at  him  and  poured  himself  out  more  wine.  Neither  had 
spoken.  Joost  sat  looking  straight  before  him,  white,  dark, 
glum.  He  also  repeatedly  tilled  the  glass  beside  his  empty 
plate. 

The  Baron  took  of  everything,  and  ate  noisily,  gobbling 
and  choking,  and  casting  more  and  more  frequent  glances 
at  his  nephew.     The  butler  moved  noiselessly  to  and  fro. 

The  dessert  was  put  on  the  table.  Joost  had  eaten  nothing. 

"  Get  out,"  said  the  Baron,  abruptly  breaking  half-an- 
hour's  silence.  The  patient  Jakob  passed  softly  out  of  the 
room.  He  closed  the  heavy  dining-room  door  on  the  two 
gentlemen  and  left  them  to  their  own  cogitations.  He  was 
not  sorry  to  be  outside. 

"  Joost,"  said  the  Baron  when  they  were  alone.  He 
poured  himself  out  another  glass  of  wine  from  the  replen- 
ished decanter.  His  hand  trembled  somewhat — "  Joost,  I 
am  an  ill-used  old  man.  I  have  been  ill-used  all  my  life, 
and  my  experience  has  not  been  a  happy  one.  Be  sure  of 
that.  Far  from  it.  But  we  need  not  speak  of  the  subject. 
You  don't  believe  me,  do  you  ?  " 

"  What  about?"  said  Joost.  "  That  you  were  ill-used? 
I  don't  know." 


92  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  And  don't  care,  I  suppose  that  means.  It  is  true,  all 
the  same.  And  now,  see  how  you  behave  toward  me.  Just 
because,  for  your  own  good,  I  ask  you  to  forget  this  foolish 
love  story — after  all,  it  is  a  child's  fancy,  nothing  more — ask 
you  to  forget  it  on  your  own  behalf.  It  is  on  your  own 
behalf.     Don't  you  believe  me  ?  " 

Joost  did  not  answer. 

"  Don't  you  believe  me  ?  "  The  old  man  bent  across  the 
table. 

"  No,"  said  Joost  with  a  laugh. 

His  uncle  swore  a  great  oath.  He  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  his  glass,  but  the  hand  trembled  and  struck  against 
the  slender  stem,  upsetting  its  balance  and  sending  a  crim- 
son stream  over  the  white  table-cloth.  The  Baron  flung  the 
offending  wine-glass  into  a  corner  of  the  room  and,  stumb- 
ling to  the  sideboard,  came  back  with  a  tumbler  which  he 
filled  and  drained. 

"  And  so,"  he  began  again,  "  you  would  marry  Agatha 
van  Hessel  after  all.  If  I  were  to  die  to-night,  you  would 
marry  her  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Joost. 

"  And  van  Hessel,  damn  him,  would  give  his  consent 
too,"  muttered  the  old  man.     There  was  a  long  silence. 

"  Look  here,  Joost  Avelingh,"  said  van  Trotsem,  bend- 
ing forward  again,  his  red  hands  spread  out  before  him. 
"  You  shall  not  marry  this  girl.  I  have  told  you  myself, 
kindly,  that  I  am  acting  for  your  own  welfare.  You  laugh, 
and  simply  answer  that  I  lie.  Had  you  consented,  with  a 
good  grace,  to  obey  my  wishes,  there  would  have  been  an 
end  of  the  matter.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  you  force  me 
to  take  action.  Y^ou  yourself  have  indicated  the  road. 
You  tell  me  van  Hessel  will  never  take  you  without  my 
money.  Well,  damn  you  both,  he  shall  never  get  you  with 
it.  Rather  than  that,  I  will  leave  it  to  Arthur  van  As- 
veld." 


THE  CUP  FLOWS  OVER.  93 

"  Leave  it  where  you  like,"  said  Joost.  "  I  have  told  you 
once  for  all,  sir,  I  don't  want  your  money." 

"  Yes,  you  do,"  said  the  old  man,  quickly,  "  for  it  is  your 
only  cliance  of  Agatha." 

A  terrible  expression  came  over  Joost's  face,  a  look  so 
dark  and  threatening  that  his  uncle,  half-fuddled  as  he  was 
with  wine,  was  startled  by  it.  There  was  murder  in  that 
passionate  glance.  The  mouth,  dogged  and  square,  set  itself 
firmly,  full  of  dreadful  resolve. 

"  Do  not  exasperate  me,"  said  Joost  Avelingh. 

"  It  is  you  who  exasperate  me,"  said  the  Baron,  surlily. 
"  Have  I  ever  injured  you  ?  What  right  have  you  to  speak 
to  me  thus?  I  tell  you  again,  you  shall  not  marry  the 
girl ! " 

"When  have  you  ever  injured  me?  How  dare  I  speak 
to  you  thus?  Say  rather:  When  have  you  not  injured  me? 
Say  ratlier :  How  should  one  speak  to  his  greatest  enemy 
on  earth  ?  "  Joost  started  up  and  came  half-way  round  the 
table  toward  his  uncle.  "  When  have  you  had  another  ob- 
ject in  life  but^to  make  me  miserable  ?  When  have  you  had 
another  amusement  ?  ISTay,  I  will  speak.  I  have  been  silent 
long  enough.  You  shall  hear  me  to-night,  if  it  be  the  last 
night  we  spend  together  under  the  same  roof.  Would  to 
Heaven  it  were  so  !  It  shall  be  so,  so  help  me  God.  You, 
who  have  persecuted  your  sister  till  her  death,  you,  who 
have  insulted  and  injured  my  father  till  he  also  passed  be- 
yond your  vengeance,  if  not  beyond  your  hate ;  you  rejoice 
to  know  that  you  have  me  still  left.  You  delight  in  the 
thought  how  you  have  tortured  me  through  all  these  years, 
how  you  still  liave  the  power  to  make  me  suffer !  You  have 
succeeded.  I  admit  it.  Rejoice  in  it  while  you  can.  But 
I  defy  you.  I  am  no  longer  a  child.  Wliy  should  I  respect 
your  gray  hairs  ?  They  but  witness  how  long  I  have  under- 
gone your  persecutions.  Wliy  should  I  honor  our  relation- 
ship?    It  but  tells  me  how  you  treated  my  mother.     I  leave 


94  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

this  house  to-night !  I  defy  you  !  I  shall  marry  the  girl  I 
love  in  spite  of  you,  in  spite  of  her  father,  in  spite  of  a 
legion  of  devils  encamped  against  us !  I  shall  marry  her 
yet,  I  warn  you  !  And  I  shall  rejoice  the  more  in  our  union 
to  know  it  is  against  your  will !  " 

He  had  poured  out  these  mad  words  in  a  ceaseless, 
breathless  stream.  The  old  gentleman  lay  back  in  his  chair 
staring  at  him,  breathless  too.  When  his  nephew  ceased,  he 
snatched  up  a  water-bottle  and  aimed  it  at  the  offender's 
head.  It  crashed  against  a  looking-glass  and  sent  a  glitter- 
ing shower  of  glass-splinters  and  water-drops  all  over  that 
part  of  the  room.  Some  of  the  splinters  struck  Joost  and 
the  water  splashed  over  his  back.  "  You  hell-hound !  "  be- 
gan the  Baron,  when  at  last  he  found  voice — but  no,  his 
language  need  not  be  written  down  here.  For  several  min- 
utes he  stormed  on,  swearing  and  raving  in  a  fury  of  passion, 
while  Joost  stood  silent,  his  arms  crossed  on  his  breast,  great 
beads  of  perspiration  coming  out  on  his  white  forehead. 
After  all,  his  uncle  had  him  in  his  power,  and  he  knew  it. 
"  For  the  next  two  years  at  any  rate,"  shouted  the  old  man, 
"  we  shall  see  who  is  master.  I  will  make  a  mill  hand  of  you, 
you  dog  ;  and  you  can  inherit  my  millions  afterward.  You 
or  van  Asveld.  Ha !  Ha !  You  or  van  Asveld."  He  was 
frantic  with  rage.  His  face  was  livid  one  moment,  and  vio- 
let the  next.  He  foamed  and  spat,  while  with  trembling 
hand  he  reached  out  for  more  wine.  And  yet,  strangely 
enough,  the  ungovernable  old  man  in  the  bottommost  depth 
of  his  heart  respected  his  nephew  more  and  liked  him  better 
for  thus  standing  up  and  facing  him  in  his  wrath. 

He  tore  the  napkin  from  his  throat.  "  I  will  end  it  this 
very  night !  "  he  cried,  as  he  staggered  to  his  feet.  "  No,  sir, 
you  shall  stay  with  me  this  night  and  many  another.  You 
shall  stay  with  me,  because  I  wish  it  and  the  law  enforces 
my  will.  If  you  disobey  me,  I  will  call  in  my  servants  and 
disgrace  you  before  them.     And  this  night,  this  very  night 


THE  CUP   FLOWS  OVER.  95 

you  yourself  shall  drive  me  over  to  the  village.  It  is  you 
yourself,  miud,  who  force  me  to  do  it.  You  have  defied  me. 
I  could  not  rest  a  night  with  the  thought  of  what  my  death 
would  bring  you !  The  realization  of  all  your  wishes,  for- 
sooth !  You  shall  not  realize  them.  This  night,  I  promise 
you,  sir  nephew,  shall  make  them  unattainable  forever." 

He  fell  toward  the  bell-rope  and  rang  violently.  A  serv- 
ant hurried  into  the  room.  And  the  Baron,  still  foaming 
with  passion,  could  find  no  other  words  than  "  The  Chaise  !  " 


PART  II. 
AFTER. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

CHARITY. 

"  But  if  you  add  the  garden,"  said  tlie  architect,  "  you 
will  almost  double  the  expense,  Mr.  Avelingh." 

"  And  the  comfort  of  the  old  people,"  said  Joost. 

They  were  sitting  in  the  big  library  at  the  Castle  ;  Joost 
Avelingh  befoi^  his  writing  table,  the  architect  a  little  on 
one  side,  in  a  deferential  attitude.  A  shaded  lamp  at  Joost's 
elbow  threw  a  glare  of  light  over  a  large  white  roll  spread 
out  before  him,  a  drawing-plan.  By  the  fire  sat  Agatha, 
near  a  little  table  and  lamp  of  her  own,  busy  over  some 
woman's  trifle  of  dainty  useless  fancy-work. 

"  Oh,  the  poor  people,"  said  Timmers,  the  architect, 
"yes,  certainly,  the  comfort  of  the  poor  people!  Only, 
really,  it  appears  to  me  that,  with  the  arrangements  you 
have  made  already,  Mr.  Avelingh,  the  comfort  of  the  poor 
people  will  be  very  adequately — not  to  say  super-abundantly 
— provided  for." 

"  What  is  worth  doing  at  all,"  said  Joost  reflectively,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  plan  before  him,  "  is  usually,  though  not 
always,  worth  doing  well.  I  should  say :  Yes.  Decidedly. 
Add  the  garden." 


98  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

"  Very  well,  Mynheer,"  replied  the  architect,  who  always 
contradicted  his  clients  just  sufficiently  to  allow  himself  a 
door  of  escape  if  matters  went  wrong.  "And  as  you  so 
justly  remarked,  '  what  is  worth  doing  at  all  is  always  worth 
doing  well ! '  And  therefore  I  should  advise  the  garden,  as 
there  is  to  be  one  in  any  case,  to  go  right  round  the  build- 
ing with  a  good-sized  bit  in  front ;  it  always  looks  so  much 
better.  And  what  should  you  say  to  a  fountain  in  the  cen- 
ter, before  the  grand  entrance,  just  here — he  pointed  with 
his  pencil — a  fountain  with  a  symbolical  figure  of  Charity ! 
Mevrouw — a  bow  in  the  direction  of  the  fireplace— might 
kindly  consent  to  sit  for  the  figure;  a  most  charming— 
ahem — representation  we  could  obtain.  I  know  a  friend  of 
mine — " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Joost  hastily.     "  None  of  that." 
"  No  fountain  at  all  ?  "  asked  the  architect. 
"  The  fountain,  if  yon  like,  but  no  figure." 
Timmers  looked  disappointed.     "  Well,"  he  said,  bright- 
ening up  the  next  moment,  "  you  could  have  merely  a  bronze 
spout,  if  you  wish  it,  or  a  dragon.     It  might  play  on  Sun- 
days and  on  the  birthday  of  the  Founder." 

Joost  allowed  this  last  suggestion  to  fall  to  the  ground 
unnoticed.  He  sat  staring  straight  in  front  of  him,  look- 
ing at  nothing.  The  architect,  finding  it  impossible  to  rouse 
him,  rambled  on  and,  in  his  dislike  of  awkward  silences, 
tried  to  attract  Mevrouw's  attention. 

"And  the  gardens,"  he  said,  "could  be  laid  out  by 
Heesters  and  Sons,  the  Amsterdam  people.  That,  of  course, 
is  not  in  my  line.  I  should  recommend  them,  uncondition- 
ally. Their  taste  is  excellent.  And  no  doubt,  in  this  mat- 
ter, Mevrouw  will  give  them  the  benefit  of  hers."  He  drew 
the  drawing  a  little  toward  him  and  got  up,  addressing 
x\gatha,  "What  would  you  say,  Mevrouw,  to  digging  a  pond 
along  in  this  direction— it  is  just  the  merest  suggestion— 
but,  if  you  would  give  your  opinion — " 


CHARITY.  99 

Agatha  half  rose. 

"  No,"  said  Joost  Avelingh,  suddenly  waking  from  his 
reverie,  "  Mevrouw  does  not  care  for  these  matters.  Sit 
down,  Timmers.  Leave  it  to — what's  their  name  ?  Heesters 
and  Sons." 

The  architect  sat  down  abashed.  Agatha  sank  back  in 
her  chair  without  a  word. 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost  Avelingh,  "  that  is  all  very  well, 
very  well  indeed.  And  I  quite  agree  with  what  you  have 
been  saying,  Timmers,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  quite  right. 
And  now,  I  think,  we  have  discussed  everything  fully  and, 
really,  there  is  nothing  more  to  arrange.  So,  if  you  will 
take  these  papers — " 

The  architect  held  up  his  hands  with  such  a  pitiful, 
deprecatory  expression,  that  Joost  stopped.  "  Well,"  he 
said,  impatiently. 

"  My  dear  Heer,  my  honored  Heer,  there  are  numbers 
of  things  I  must  still  ask  about.  A  great  institution  is  not 
put  together  in  an  hour  like  a  hen-coop.  Good  Heavens, 
I  shall  not  get  through  to-night.  You  will  have  to  let  me 
come  again  once  more  at  the  very  least,  before  we  can  even 
begin  taking  the  tenders." 

Joost  settled  himself  in  his  armchair  with  a  sigh  of 
resignation.  The  architect  began  hurriedly — and  yet  with 
evident  enjoyment — describing  his  plans  and  their  various 
advantages.  His  enjoyment  was  only  marred  by  the  too 
evident  fact  that  his  employer  was  not  listening.  Neverthe- 
less, he  wandered  on  through  figures,  and  measures,  and 
technical  terms  innumerable,  till  the  flow  of  his  eloquence 
was  suddenly  stopped  by  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Kees  Hessel  came  in ;  a  man  deep  in  the  twenties  now, 
stouter  than  formerly,  with  honest  blue  eyes,  a  bright  com- 
plexion and  a  great  yellow  mustache. 

"  Busy  about  the  hospital,"  he  said  in  a  brisk,  cheery 
voice,  casting  his  eyes  over  the  great  plan  after  the  first 
a 


100  JOOST  AVELIXGH. 

greetings  had  been  interchanged.  "  Well,  Mr.  Timmers,  are 
you  going  to  immortulize  yourself,  as  well  as  the  founder  ?  " 

"  I  do  my  best,  Mynheer  van  Hessel,"  began  the  archi- 
tect. 

"  If  there's  anybody  you're  bound  to  immortalize,  it's  the 
old  creatures  themselves,"  said  Kees.  "  Once  get  people  into 
an  institution  of  that  kind  and  they're  sure  to  live  forever. 
But  it's  a  good  work  all  the  same,  and  that's  my  opinion." 

"  We  shall  give  them  a  hard  egg  for  breakfast  every 
morning  all  round,"  said  Joost  laughing,  a  little  boisterous- 
ly. "  We  shall  put  it  down  in  the  rules.  That  will  kill 
them  off,  if  nothing  else  will.     Won't  it,  Agatha  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Joost,"  said  Agatha  gently. 

"  Some  doctors  are  beginning  to  teach  that  hard  eggs  are 
the  only  wholesome  ones,"  interposed  Kees. 

"  Doctors  will  teach  anything,"  answered  Joost,  "  merely 
because  they  know  by  experience  that  every  new  fallacy 
brings  in  a  dozen  new  patients.  Don't  tell  me  !  You  for- 
get you  are  speaking  to  a  medical  man." 

"  A  medical  baby  !  "  cried  Kees,  "  a  medical  embryo ! 
Surely  you  don't  mean  to  tell  us  that  three  years  loafing 
through  the  first  half  of  a  University  career  turns  out  a 
medical  man  !  You  aren't  a  medical  man,  Joost,  no,  not 
even  in  the  least  degree." 

Joost  smiled.  "  You  might  have  laughed  at  the  pun, 
Agatha,"  said  Kees. 

"  Yes,"  said  Agatha,  "  I  beg  pardon,  Kees.  I  was  think- 
ing of  something  else.  I  shall,  I  promise  you,  next  time  I 
come  across  it.  But  we  were  speaking  of  the  building  plans, 
and  Mr.  Timmers  was  saying —  "  she  pitied  the  architect, 
suddenly  interrupted  in  his  explanations,  and  left  out  of  the 
conversation. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Joost,  "  Mr.  Timmers !  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  all  the  trouble  you  are  taking,  Timmers. 
We'll  talk  it  over  at  our  ease  some  other  day." 


CHARITY.  101 

"  Would  to-moiTOw  suit  you,  Mynheer  ?  "  asked  the  archi- 
tect, gatliering  up  his  materials. 

"  No,  not  to-morrow.  Let  me  see.  To-morrow  evening 
we  dine  at  your  father's,  Kees,  on  Wednesday  I  have  the 
Blind  Council  meeting,  Thursday  there's  the  Town  Concert, 
Board  Meeting  on  Friday.  Look  here,  I'll  send  you  a  mes- 
sage.    Good-night." 

"  Good-night,  Mynheer.  Good-night,  Mevrouw.  Good- 
night, Mynheer  van  Hessel."  The  architect  bowed  himself 
out,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  his  papers  in  a  neat  roll  under  his 
arm.  "  A  rich  man,"  he  said  to  himself  in  the  hall,  "  and 
an  influential  man,  but  a  crotchety." 

"  What  a  busy  fellow,  you  are,  Joost,"  said  Kees. 

"  Saturday  was  free,  I  think,"  put  in  Agatha. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Joost  quickly,  "  but  I  like  to  have  a  night 
to  ourselves  once  in  a  way.     Don't  you  ?  " 

Agatha  did  not  answer.     He  might  well  know  she  did. 

"  I  have  brought  you  the  draft  of  yoar  scheme,"  said 
Kees,  producing  his  pocket-book.  He  was  clerk  to  the  Dis- 
trict Court ;  his  uncle  in  the  Hague  had  got  him  the  place 
recently  in  e^hange  for  a  vote.     "  Shall  I  read  it  you  ?  " 

Joost  nodded  assent. 

"Avelingh  Institute  and  Establishment,"  began  Kees, 
"  for  the  Reception  and  Retention,  the  Maintenance,  Sup- 
port and  Entertainment,  and  furthermore  the  General  Ad- 
vantagement  and  Protection  of  the  Aged  Industrious  and 
Deserving  Poor,  Married,  Single  or  otherwise  under  the 
motto  '  Virtue  Vanquisheth  Vicissitudes.' " 

No  one  smiled  at  this  majestic  procession  of  words. 
Such  titles  are  more  or  less  the  custom  in  Holland,  where 
no  infant  organization  is  ever  ushered  into  the  world  with- 
out  a  name  as  long  as  a  baptismal  robe.  The  motto  also  is 
a  national  institution,  and — common  sense  coming  to  the 
rescue — an  Establishment  like  the  above-mentioned  would 
soon  be  known  as  the  "  V.  V.  V." 


102  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  You  might  leave  out  '  otherwise ' "  remarked  Joost. 

"  That  shows  you  are  not  a  lawyer,"  answered  Kees, 
gravely.     "  No  lawyer  would  ever  have  said  that." 

"  I  bow  to  the  authority  of  the  Court,"  replied  Joost. 
"We  can  reserve  a  certain  number  of  rooms  for  the  '  other- 
wise.' " 

"  Article  First,"  continued  Kees.  "  The  Avelingh  Insti- 
tute and  Establishment —  " 

"  You  peoj)le  are  all  the  same,"  cut  in  Joost.  "  You  are 
in  a  conspiracy  to  vex  me.  Scratch  out '  Avelingh.'  I  won't 
have  any  connection  with  the  affair." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  Kees,  opening  his  blue  eyes.  "  Not  even 
your  name  in  it  ?  Oh  come  now,  that  is  good.  Well,  you 
might  have  told  a  fellow  !  All  very  noble  and  high-minded 
and  that !  But  you'll  be  sorry  afterward.  That's  my  opin- 
ion, and  I  don't  consider  myself  a  fool !  " 

"  I  did  tell  you,"  said  Joost.  "  At  least,  I  seem  to  have 
been  telling  everybody  the  last  two  days.  I  build  the  whole 
concern  and,  when  it  is  ready,  I  make  a  present  of  it  to  the 
Commune  with  a  draft  of  rules,  which  they  can  alter  or  not, 
as  they  think  fit.  The  grant  is  unconditional.  And  I  re- 
fuse to  be  connected  in  any  way  with  the  Board  of  Direct- 
ors." 

"  Build  a  thing  like  that  at  the  cost  of  half  a  million  of 
money*  and  then  put  it  altogether  into  other  jjeople's 
hands !    But,  my  dear  Joost,  supposing  they  mismanage  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Joost. 

"  Oh  very  well !     Only  I  was  going  to  suggest — " 

"  Don't  bother.     Head  on,"  said  Joost,  peevishly. 

"  If  he  prefers  it,  Kees,  you  know,"  put  in  Agatha  from 
her  corner. 

Kees  returned  to  his  regulations,  not  without  a  shrug  of 
his  shoulders.    He  did  not  pretend  to  understand  his  brother- 

*  £40,000. 


CHARITY.  103 

in-law.  A  good  man,  certainly,  but  a  peculiar.  Changed, 
in  many  ways,  since  he  came  into  all  that  money.  Irritable 
and  boisterous  alternately.  Not,  certainly,  as  jovial  and 
good-natured  as  the  outside  world  might  think.  Kees  pre- 
ferred equable  tempers.  But  what  did  anything  else  matter, 
as  long  as  Agatha  was  content  ? 

"  It  is  very  interesting,"  said  Joost,  when  they  had  got 
about  half  way,  "  at  the  discretion  of  the  Secretary  and  in 
the  absence  of  the  Treasurer  ?  Yes ;  is  there  any  more  of 
it,  Kees?" 

"  Only  seventy-nine  more  articles.  These  things  must 
be  done  accurately,  you  know,  or  you  get  into  any  amount 
of  trouble  afterward  with  all  the  revisions." 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course.  I'm  awfully  obliged  to  you  for  tak- 
ing so  much  trouble.  It's  really  very  good  of  you  ;  I  couldn't 
have  done  it  myself." 

"  You  have  plenty  of  other  things  to  do,  Joost,"  said 
Agatha  affectionately.  "  Your  hands  are  already  too  full." 
She  could  not  bear  any  one  to  think  there  was  anything 
Joost  could  not  do. 

"  They  will  be  fuller  soon,  for  all  that,"  remarked  Kees. 
"  Don't  forget,  you  complete  your  thirtieth  year  in  a  month 
or  two.  That  makes  you  eligible  for  the  States  General,  and 
we  shall  have  them  putting  you  up  as  a  candidate  at  the 
next  election." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost  laughing.  "  Of  course  we  shall.  What 
next?" 

"Nonsense,  you  think  it's  a  joke,  but  it's  sober  truth 
and  earnest.  Do  you  think  all  these  good  deeds  go  for 
nothing?" 

"  Good  deeds — as  you  are  pleased  to  call  them  so — are 
never  rewarded  in  Holland  unless  there  is  some  political  in- 
trigue connected  with  tliem,"  said  Joost,  earnestly.  "  We 
were  talking  about  it  at  the  Club  only  the  other  day.  Lady 
Burdett  Coutts  would  have  been  Miss  Coutts  with  us  till  the 


104  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

day  of  her  death.  That  makes  it  so  much  easier  to  do 
them,"  he  added,  more  earnestly  still. 

"  Very  true,  as  far  as  official  recognition  goes,"  said  Kees. 
"  I  grant  it.  But  you  can't  keep  the  people  from  finding 
out  an  honest  man.  All  the  embroidered  coats  in  the 
Hague  can't  do  that,  however  hard  they  may  want  to." 

"  N — 0 — 0,"  said  Joost,  hesitatingly,  "  but — " 

"  Why,  man,  you're  the  most  popular  man  in  the  prov- 
ince ! "  the  other  went  on,  enthusiastically. 

"  I  never  noticed  it,"  Joost  interrupted,  quickly.  "  Not 
among  the  higher  classes,  certainly.  The  very  reverse !  I 
should  say,  sooner,  the  very  reverse  !  " 

"  That  may  be  as  it  may  be,"  his  brother-in-law  replied, 
evasively.  "  Supposing  your  impression  to  be  correct,  it 
still  remains  a  fact  that  although  we,  like  all  nations  that 
are  not  governed  by  one  man,  are  governed  by  a  small  clique 
instead,  there  are  one  or  two  jirizes  that  clique  is  not  able  to 
bestow.  Those  are  the  seats  in  Parliament  for  large  towns 
or  manufacturing  centers.  And  it's  my  opinion  that  they'll 
bring  you  in  for  the  town  in  a  few  months,  and  really,  Joost, 
I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  you  sometimes  think.  Besides,  I've 
heard  more  about  it  than  I  can  repeat  just  at  present." 

Agatha  had  risen  and  come  forward.  There  was  a  bright 
sparkle  in  her  eyes  and  a  flusli  on  her  fair  cheeks. 

"  Of  course  he  is  popular  !  "  she  said.  "  And  of  course 
he  is  liked  and  esteemed.  He  is  always  saying  he  isn't,  and 
that  everybody  hates  him,  but  I  tell  him  it  can't  be  true." 

Joost  had  risen  too.  He  was  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  with  gigantic  strides,  his  tall  figure  swaying  to  and 
fro,  his  arms  crossed  across  the  broad  chest.  Suddenly  he 
stopped  before  his  brother-in-law  and  thrcAV  back  the  wav- 
ing black  hair  off  his  forehead  with  the  old  movement  which 
had  brought  on  that  early  quarrel  when  his  uncle  struck 
him.  His  dark  eyes  burned  like  coals  from  under  the  broad 
white  brows. 


CHARITY.  105 

"  It  isn't  true,  Kees,"  he  said.  "  Say  you're  joking.  It's 
all  nonsense ;  no  one  ever  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"It's  all  nonsense,"  replied  Kees.  "At  least,  I  mean 
your  way  of  taking  it  is.  What's  there  to  be  in  a  temper 
about?  Most  men  would  give  half  their  life  to  get  into 
the  States,  if  they  could  get  there  in  this  manner.  Why, 
it's  the  glorious  ideal !  The  free  voice  of  the  free  people  ! 
Occurs  once  in  twenty  years,  perhaps !  You  haven't  achieved 
it  as  yet ;  but  when  you  do,  as  you  will,  I  shall  congratulate 
you  as  heartily  as  I  did  when  you  told  me  your  uncle  was 
dead  and  you  were  going  to  marry  Agatha.  No  offense  to 
the  old  gentleman." 

Joost  stood  before  his  desk  again,  his  back  turned  to  his 
brother-in-law.  "  You  are  right,"  he  said  in  a  quiet  voice. 
"  Of  course  it  takes  one  aback.  And  you  think  this  foun- 
dation is  responsible  for  it  ?  " 

"  This,  and  all  your  other  efforts.  Here  you  have  been 
for  the  last  ten  years  taking  an  interest  in  all  the  charities 
of  the  province,  scattering  your  money  among  the  halt,  the 
lame  and  the  blind,  till  you're  on  half  the  philanthropic 
councils  of  the  country,  looking  up  public  matters  at  the 
same  time,  working  for  the  new  canal  to  Amsterdam  and 
the  steam-tram  up  to  Arnhem,  here  you  are  in  one  word, 
the  man  to  whom  the  province  owes  most,  and  you  don't 
expect  to  be  popular.  I  tell  you  again — you're  the  most 
popular  man  we  have." 

"  It  may  be  true,"  said  Joost.  "  I  didn't  notice  it,  be- 
cause, you  see,  I  knew  my  own  class  hated  me,  and  one 
comes  in  contact  most  with  them,  of  course.  It  can't  bo 
helped.  I  mean,  I  dare  say  it's  all  for  the  best.  Are  you 
going?  Well,  good-uight.  Wc  shall  see  you  to-morrow. 
Good-night." 

Joost  remained  standing  by  his  writing-table,  looking 
down  at  the  general  plan  of  his  almshouses,  which  the  archi- 
tect had  left  for  his  inspection.     Agatha  bent  over  her  work, 


106  JOOST   AVELIXGH. 

stealing  glances  every  now  and  then  at  her  husbanrPs  stal- 
wart form,  shaded  against  his  lamp. 

"  If  I  thought  it  was  this,"  suddenly  said  Joost  impetu- 
ously, "  I  should  tear  the  whole  thing  in  pieces." 

He  was  speaking  to  himself,  not  to  her.  Agatha  knew, 
by  experience,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  disturbed. 

He  stood  silent  for  some  minutes  longer.  "  I  hate  it !  " 
he  cried  out  suddenly.  "  I  hate  the  whole  wretched  thing ! " 
he  turned  round  to  his  wife  :  "  I  tell  you  I  hate  it,  Agatha !  " 

She  came  to  him  and  put  one  arm  round  his  neck. 
"  Why  do  it,  if  you  do  not  wish  to,  dearest  ?  "  she  said.  "  I 
never  thought  you  really  quite  liked  it,  but  you  seemed  to 
think  you  did.     Can  it  not  be  undone  still,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Can  it  not  be  undone  ?  "  repeated  Joost  passionately. 

"  No,  no,  I  should  not  have  said  that.  You  will  enjoy 
the  thought  of  it  afterward,  as  long  as  you  live.  It  is  a 
grand  work,  a  splendid  work  !  Tliey  are  right  to  admire 
you  for  it !  And  you  will  feel,  when  this  first  impression 
passes  off,  what  a  good  deed  it  is.  It  is  all  the  nobler  to 
feel  like  this  about  the  honor  it  must  bring  you.  It  is  like 
you,  Joost,  my  own  pure,  noble  Joost.  I  honor  you  for  it, 
and  so  does  Kees;  I  saw  it  in  his  eyes.  But  you  will  take 
courage  and  see  what  a  blessing  it  is  to  be  a  blessing  to 
others.  You  are  a  benefactor  of  the  whole  province,  Joost. 
I  like  to  think  it !     It  is  a  benefaction." 

"  A  benefaction  !  "  said  Joost  sullenly.  "  It  is  an  expia- 
tion !  " 

"  An  expiation  !  My  dearest !  " — she  clung  to  him  with 
a  frightened  expression  in  her  innocent  blue  eyes.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?  What  makes  you  say  that  ?  I  never  heard 
you  speak  so  before,  Joost !  " 

"  Did  you  not  ? "  he  answered,  turning  on  her  almost 
fiercely.  "  Every  man  has  sins  and  follies  enough  to  expi- 
ate, I  suppose.  Never  mind,  dearest.  There  goes  the  bell 
ior  prayers  !     Go,  dearest.     I  will  join  you  immediately." 


LOOKS   BACK.  10 


T 


He  disengaged  her  arms  gently  from  his  neck,  and 
watched  her  as  she  unwillingly  left  the  room.  "  Prayers  I  " 
he  said  to  himself  with  a  bitter  laiigh,  as  soon  as  he  was 
alone.  He  stood  in  front  of  a  little  leaflet  calendar  his  wife 
had  embroidered  for  him  last  year.  It  hung  by  his  writing- 
table.     His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  date. 

"  The  14th  of  December,"  he  said.     "It  is  destiny." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LOOKS    BACK. 

JoosT  Ayelixgh  had  spoken  truly  when  he  said  that 
he  was  not  much  liked  among  the  men  of  his  own  rank. 
Since  his  uncle's  sudden  death  had  made  him  possessor  of 
one  of  the  largest  fortunes  in  the  country,  many  things  had 
happened  to  influence  his  development;  still,  his  character 
had  remained  on  the  whole,  as  characters  are  wont  to  do, 
essentially  the  same.  And  Joost  Avelingh's  character  was 
not  one  of  those  which  obtain  favor  in  the  circle  in  which 
he  found  himself  placed.  It  was  not  one  either  to  attract 
particular  dislike.  His  was  one  of  those  natures  people  let 
alone,  because  they  have  nothing  in  common  with  the  crowd 
— for  no  worse  reason,  if  that  be  not  the  worst  and  most 
unpardonable  of  all.  He  was  not  by  any  means  a  genius, 
claiming  and  obtaining  adoration ;  he  was  just  an  ordinary 
mortal ;  a  trifle  more  reflective,  and  with  a  trifle  more  "  See- 
lenleben  "  as  the  Germans  say,  than  the  common-place  people 
around  him.  Clever  enough  to  appreciate  cleverness  in  oth- 
ers ;  in  many  ways  a  most  unhai)py  fate. 

It  has  already  been  said  that  ho  neither  swore  nor  di-iink 
nor  gambled.     It  may  l>i'  added  tliat  he  led  a  strictly  iiioi-al 


108  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

life  ;  in  short,  he  had  no  aristocratic  tastes.  Let  it  be  stated 
still  further  that  he  lived  in  the  country,  was  a  very  rich 
man,  and  yet  cared  neither  for  shooting  nor  horse-flesh,  and 
every  one  who  knows  anything  about  the  matter  will  admit 
that  the  catalogue  of  his  deficiencies  is  complete.  He  had 
a  peculiar  theory  of  his  own  that  whosoever  consciously  oc- 
casions unnecessary  suffering  to  any  living  creature  stands 
lower  in  the  rank  of  creation  than  any  other  brute  beast 
whatsoever,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  that  monster, 
the  cat ;  and,  concientiously  sticking  to  this  theory,  he  had 
once  asserted  at  the  Club,  to  the  general  amusement,  that 
he  had  never  despised  any  human  being  till  he  met  with  a 
foreign  nobleman  who  kept  hunters  and  harriers.  That 
nobleman  was  at  the  time  the  Club's  honored  guest,  and 
there  ensued  a  great  shrugging  of  shoulders  and  tapping  of 
foreheads  all  round.  Many  of  the  young  men  present  re- 
gretted only  too  sincerely  that  fox-hunting  was  impossible 
in  Holland,  and  hare-hunting  forbidden,  and  that  even  an 
innocent  little  attempt  to  get  up  pigeon  shooting  had  re- 
cently been  jxit  down  by  public  opinion.  "  They  manage 
these  things  better  abroad,"  said  Arthur  van  Asveld. 

On  the  other  hand  Joost  Avelingh,  while  he  did  not 
sympathize  with  the  tastes  most  generally  cultivated,  had 
disagreeable  little  likings  of  his  own  which  nobody  appreci- 
ated. The  early  habit  of  reading,  contracted  in  the  dull 
days  of  his  childhood,  still  held  him  in  bondage,  and  that 
among  a  society  which  never  read  anything  at  all  but  the 
newspapers,  the  magazines,  and  the  latest  French  novels. 
Full  of  some  interesting  book  he  had  lately  come  across,  he 
had  once  or  twice  innocently  told  others  about  it.  Fool 
that  he  was,  he  had  immediately  contracted  the  fatal  repu- 
tation of  "  pedantry,"  a  reputation  which  the  utter  fatuity 
of  months  of  ordinary  conversation  would  not  suffice  to 
efface.  "  You  are  the  clever  man  who  reads  Taine,"  old 
Beau  Liederlen  had  said  to  him  once,  some  time  after  he 


LOOKS  BACK.  109 

had  last  offended  in  this  manner,  "  I  will  tell  you  what,  sir : 
"  Us  origines  de  la  France  contempoi'aine,  ce  sont  les  co- 
cottes.''''  Every  one  enjoyed  that  joke  immensely ;  it  was  the 
best  that  had  been  heard  in  the  Club  for  years.  And  Joost 
went  by  the  name  of  "  le  petit  Taine  "  for  some  few  months 
accordingly ;  nobody  could  exactly  have  told  you  why. 

Joost,  then,  was  neither  liked  nor  exactly  disliked  by  his 
associates.  They  endured  him ;  he  was  "  so  peculiar,  you 
know."  He  could  not  be  ignored ;  he  was  too  rich  for  that. 
And  perhaps  a  little  envy  crept  in  with  regard  to  such  a  very 
wealthy  personage,  for  £12,000  a  year  is  an  enormous  for- 
tune in  Holland,  where  many  have  enough  and  but  few  too 
much.  Then  there  was  the  unwilling  tribute  of  respect 
which  ignorance  always  pays  to  knowledge,  however  loudly 
it  may  affect  contempt,  and,  as  has  been  already  said,  in 
Joost's  circle  the  man  who  read  other  books  than  novels 
and  pamphlets  on  public  affairs  was  at  once  written  down  as 
"  zeer  knap,"  *  It  was  no  use  talking  to  Avelingh  ;  "  he  had 
such  ideas,  you'know."     Nobody  else  had  ideas. 

On  the  other  hand  Joost  had  been  unconsciously  build- 
ing up  for  himself  a  great  reputation  among  the  lower 
classes  of  his  neighborhood.  When  the  old  Notary  first 
told  him  that  by  the  terms  of  his  uncle's  will,  "  my  nephew, 
Joost  Avelingh,  the  only  near  relation  I  have,  and  the  child 
of  my  dearly  loved  sister,  Adelhcid  "  was  appointed  sole 
heir  of  every  rood  of  ground  and  every  brass  half-penny  the 
old  Baron  possessed,  the  young  man  formed  three  rapid  re- 
solves in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye : — to  stop  studying  medicine ; 
to  marry  Agatha  immediately ;  to  live  on  a  fourth  of  his 
income  and  do  what  good  he  could  with  the  rest.  His  uncle 
had  not  left  a  single  legacy,  but  he  had  recommended  his 
servants  to  the  heir's  sense  of  justice.  Joost  could  not  en- 
dure to  keep  about  him  the  witnesses  of  his  daily  degrada- 


« ( 


'Knap"  is  clever,  with  a  dash  of  actual  knowledge  through  it. 


no  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

tiou.  He  disbanded  the  whole  staff,  indoor  and  outdoor, 
pensioning  off,  where  he  could,  with  what  his  uncle  would 
have  called,  not  justice,  but  prodigality,  and  paying  the 
younger  servants  their  full  wages  till  new  places  were  got 
for  them.  All  went,  even  the  occasional  helps,  and  the 
man  who  milked  the  cows.  The  lease  of  the  home-farm 
was  bought  off  at  an  exorbitant  price  and  a  new  tenant 
found.  Perhaps  the  whole  measure  was  not  a  wise  one ; 
Joost  had  reason  to  repent  it  afterward,  with  regard  to  one 
man,  at  any  rate.  Despite  its  generosity,  it  caused  a  good 
deal  of  ill-feeling  at  the  time  in  the  neighborhood,  ill-feel- 
ing as  iuexjDlicable  as  it  was  distressing  to  the  new  lord  of 
the  Castle.  However,  he  lived  that  down.  Perhaps  that 
outburst  of  feeling  kept  him  from  a  project  of  entirely  re- 
fitting and  refurnishing  the  house.  Such  a  plan  had  cer- 
tainly flashed  across  his  mind  for  a  moment.  Agatha,  the 
thrifty,  common-sense  Dutchwoman  would  not  hear  of  it. 
"  Why  do  it  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Everything  seems  in  very  good 
repair.  There's  only  a  looking-glass  broken  in  the  dining- 
room,  I  saw."  Yes,  Joost  knew  there  was  a  looking-glass 
broken  in  the  dining-room. 

So  he  contented  himself  with  fitting  up  a  boudoir  for 
her,  and  a  bedroom. 

"  The  large  South  room,"  said  Agatha. 

"  No,  not  that  one,  dearest ;  my  uncle  slept  there." 

"  And  what  of  that,  Joost  ?  There's  not  a  room  in  the 
house  which  hasn't  been  slept  in  by  half-a-dozen  people, 
dead  and  gone  long  ago." 

Agatha  was  not  sentimental.  And  Joost  felt  ashamed 
to  seem  so.  Sentiment  is  the  one  great  disease  which  Dutch 
society  both  fears  and  despises.  In  its  less  virulent  form  of 
"  feeling,"  the  complaint  is  mostly  successfully  stamped  out 
in  youth.  Fortunately,  cases  are  rare.  The  Dutch  put  up, 
in  obedience  to  the  law  of  the  land,  placards  with  the  name 
of  the  iiifeotions  disease  on  the  doors  of  all  infected  houses? 


LOOKS   BACK.  m 

society  sticks  its  warning  on  tlie  front  of  unsound  hearts, 
and  the  weakness  dies  off,  or  kills.  And  so  no  cases  occur 
after  twenty-five.     And  that  is  a  satisfactory  conclusion. 

The  South  bedroom  it  was.  And  Joost  installed  him- 
self in  his  uncle's  former  sitting-room,  in  the  same  round 
armchair  at  the  same  old  desk. 

"  Why  not,"  said  Agatha. 

He  moved  in  one  or  two  bookcases  for  his  favorites,  and 
turned  out  the  old  man's  pipes  and  hunting  trophies.  He 
turned  out  also  Rietstap's  Noble  Families  of  the  Nether- 
lands, but  he  retained  the  account  books  of  the  estate,  and 
conscientiously,  painfully,  laboriously,  he  set  himself  to 
mastering  the  mysteries  of  the  management  of  that  large 
property. 

And  so  nearly  ten  years  had  passed.  "  Slipping  aAvay," 
said  Agatha.  "  Creeping,"  said  Joost.  And  yet  she,  the 
childless  mistress  of  many  servants,  might  have  had  time 
enough  upon  her  hands,  while  he  could  scarcely  have 
found  a  moment  to  call  his  own,  had  he  so  wished  it.  But 
he  did  not  wislTit.  He  flung  himself  into  a  vortex  of  vari- 
ous occupations,  looking  after  his  estate,  not  as  well  as  his 
uncle,  certainly,  but  still  quite  well  enough,  considering  how 
irksome  the  duty  was  to  him,  and  pushing  with  unexpected 
energy  every  plan  that  was  started  for  the  welfare  of  the 
community.  "  He  is  aiming  at  a  political  career,"  said  the 
men  at  the  Club,  over  their  whist.  He  came  down  there  too, 
of  afternoons.  In  spite  of  all  incompatibility,  he,  formerly 
so  reserved  and  gauche,  now  sought  the  society  of  other 
men.  Gauche  he  was  still,  but  no  longer  reserved.  "  Ave- 
liiigh  is  getting  a  positive  bore  with  his  boisterousness," 
said  Beau  Liederlen  marking  honors.  "  He  never  used  to 
be  witty,  and  I  can't  think  what  makes  him  fancy  himself 
so  now.  His  jokes  are  very  stujoid,  really ;  and  I  wish  to 
goodness  he  would  send  his  laugh  to  a  tuner's.  He  might 
have  waited  for  his  father-in-law's  shoes,  in  any  case ;  one 


112  JOOST  AVELIXGH. 

buffoon  in  a  Club  is  quite  enough."  He  looked  across  to 
where  the  subject  of  his  remarks  now  sat  silent ;  alone  and 
haughty,  with  a  dark  cloud  on  his  face  and  a  great  sadness 
in  his  eyes.  His  lips  were  moving  nervously ;  they  often 
did,  as  if  in  prayer.  "  He  is  like  a  hyaena,"  said  Liederlen, 
scornfully,  "  always  laughing  one  moment  and  preying  the 
next." 

Joost,  certainly,  was  fully  occupied,  and  the  people  were 
beginning  to  acknowledge  it.  He  found  plenty  of  leisure 
for  reading,  he  said  ;  that  meant  that  he  read  in  the  train,  in 
the  carriage,  wliile  dressing.  "  No  wonder  he  does  not 
sleep  well  at  night,"  poor  Agatha  complained  to  her  mother. 
'•'  His  brain  is  overwrought." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MOJTEY-MAKIXG    MADE    EASY. 

"  Is  the  Burgomaster  up  already  ?  "  asked  Joost. 

It  was  a  bright,  bitterly  cold  winter's  morning.  The 
many  windows  of  the  van  Hessel's  substantial,  brown-brick 
mansion  were  coated  over  with  fairy  traceries  of  frost-work, 
the  only  beautiful  thing,  by-the-by,  about  the  dull,  com- 
fortable house.  There  were  frost  and  snow  on  the  hard 
ground  and  on  the  trees  of  the  semi-circular  carriage  sweep. 
There  was  snow  on  Joost's  great  boots  as  he  stamped  up  and 
down  on  the  steps.  There  was  snow,  gray  and  clotted, 
about  the  shafts  of  his  sledge.  But  the  glittering  sun  shone 
down  from  the  blue  sky  on  the  red  plumes  and  gay  trap- 
pings, on  the  horse,  tossing  his  bedizened  head  to  the  tinkle 
of  a  dozen  bells,  and  sending  forth  great  shafts  of  breath 
into  the  clear,  cold  air. 


MONEY-MAKIXG   MADE   EASY.  II3 

"  Brisk  weather,  Mynheer,"  said  the  red-nosed  servant 
who  ojDened  the  front  door,  after  having  fumbled  over  the 
bolts  and  chain.     He  rubbed  his  purple  fingers. 

"  Is  the  Burgomaster  up,  already  ?  "  asked  Joost  stamp- 
ing and  puffing. 

"  I  shall  have  to  go  and  see,"  said  Piet. 

Joost  waited  in  the  Burgomaster's  study.  The  stove, 
newly-lighted,  was  roaring  and  fussing,  without,  however, 
emitting  any  heat  as  yet.  A  portfolio,  from  the  so-called 
"  Reading  Society,"  lay  on  the  table  ;  Joost  opened  it  and 
looked  through  the  engravings  of  one  or  two  Dutch  and 
French  papers  without  seeing  one  of  them.  He  shut  the 
portfolio  again,  and  stared  at  the  stove. 

The  Burgomaster  entered,  in  a  gray  dressing-gown  and 
slippers,  unshaven  as  yet,  his  eyes  very  sleepy,  his  hands 
very  cold.  Mynheer  van  Hessel  had  not  changed  much 
during  the  last  ten  years.  He  looked  a  little  stouter,  a  little 
balder,  a  little  less  red  in  the  face ;  that  was  all. 

"  My  dear  Joost ! "  he  said.  "  Oh,  of  course  you  are 
most  welcome.'*  But  if  you  had  let  me  know  in  time  of  your 
intentions,  I  should  have  told  them  to  keep  up  the  fire  all 
night." 

"  It  is  cold,"  said  Joost  apologetically. 

"  Cold  ! "  cried  the  Burgomaster ;  "  the  wonder  is  to  think 
it  can  ever  get  warm  again.  The  earth's  crust  must  heat 
faster  than  the  physicists  tell  us  it  cools,  I  should  say.  One 
degree  in  a  million  years,  isn't  it?  or  something  of  the  kind! 
Modest  kind  of  person,  the  earth,  eh  ?  Contented  so  long 
as  she  can  dip  her  crust  in  cold  water.  I  must  remember 
that  for  this  evening,  capable  of  improvement  perhaps. 
And  what  brings  you  here?"  The  Burgomaster  settled 
himself  in  an  armchair,  drew  his  dressing-gown  tightly 
round  him,  and  tucked  up  his  feet  against  the  stove. 
"Agatha  all  right,  I  suppose?"  he  added,  as  an  after- 
thought. 


11  J,  .TOOST   AVELINGH. 

"  Oh  yes,"  suid  J  oust. 

"  Ever  after  that  last  affair,  of  course,  one  feels  anxious," 
pursued  M3'uheer  van  Hessel.  "  Nothing  of  the  kind  in 
sight  at  this  moment  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Joost. 

"  So  much  the  hetter." 

"  I'm  so  sorry  to  trouble  you  at  so  early  an  hour,"  con- 
tinued the  son-in-law.  "  But  I  was  afraid  that  to-day  espe- 
cially it  was  my  only  chance  of  catching  you,  to  come  almost 
before  you  were  up.  I  was  afraid  the  Governor  would  take 
u})  all  your  time." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  the  Burgomaster,  "  And  as  it  is,  I 
haven't  got  much  to  spare.  The  Governor  is  to  arrive  at 
eleven,  and  the  inspection  is  to  begin  immediately.  I  shall 
have  to  look  over  my  address  presently.  '  Higlily  Honorable 
Austerity  ! '  Would  you  like  to  hear  it,  Joost  ?  You  might 
give  me  your  opinion." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Joost,  with  that  wretched  straightfor- 
wardness of  his.  "  I  shall  hear  it  presently.  We  shall  have 
a  cold  time  of  it.  AVhatever  makes  him  choose  this  season? 
I  thought  they  always  came  in  spring." 

"  This  suited  him  better,"  said  the  Burgomaster,  looking 
away  in  sudden  confusion.  "  And — oh — ah — ahem,  you  re- 
member what  the  poet  says : 

" '  By  "  antechainbering  " — let  the  truth  be  told — 
The  only  thing  I  ever  got — was  cold  !'  " 

"  I  have  come,"  said  Joost  impatiently,  "  about  impor- 
tant business.  I  sha'n't  take  up  more  of  your  time  than  I 
can  heljD ! " 

"  No,  don't,"  said  the  Burgomaster.  "  That's  right.  Im- 
portant business,  really?  The  Charity-foundation,  I  sup- 
pose. Kees  told  me  last  night  he  had  found  Timmers  with 
you.     Don't  you  think  you  had  better  tell  your  man  to  walk 


MONEY-MAKIXG   MADE  EASY.  115 

the  mare  up  and  down?  She  will  catch  her  death  of  cold 
standing  there." 

"  No,"  said  Joost  imperiously.     "  It  is  the  Charity." 

«  Well  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  give  it  up." 

"  Give  it  up,"  cried  the  Burgomaster  in  dismay,  his  feet 
falling  from  the  stove.     "  Joost !     What  do  you  mean '?  " 

"I  have  changed  my  mind.     I  won't  give  the  money." 

"  Impossible.  Really,  Joost,  you  might  have  thought  of 
that  sooner.  I  always  said  the  sum  was  exaggerated,  frantic, 
as  you  will  remember,  a  tenth  would  have  suited  your  ob- 
ject just  as  well.  You  will  remember  my  telling  you  that  I 
considered  it  a  positive  spoliation  of  your  future  children, 
and  you  may  very  well  have  children  still,  in  spite  of  these 
earlier  mishaps.  I  told  you  all  that,  over  and  over  again. 
But  the  thing's  done  now.  It's  too  late.  No  use  crvinof 
over  spilt  milk,  though  I  don't  wonder  you're  sorry  you  spilt 
such  pailfuls." 

"  Quite  true,"  said  Joost ;  "  but  I  have  changed  my  mind, 
and  I  withdraw  my  offer." 

"  You  can't  do  it,  Joost.  You  would  make  an  unutter- 
able fool  of  yourself  forever.  Good  Heavens,  how  the 
whole  world  would  despise  you  !  The  very  thought  makes 
me  sliudder.  Better  to  let  the  money  go — noiv — than  to 
keep  it  at  such  a  price." 

"  The  money  !  "  cried  Joost  vehemently.  "  Vo?i  can  keep 
the  money,  if  you  like.  But  I  am  going  to  withdraw  my 
proposal  to  use  it  in  charity.  I  wrote  out  my  letter  this 
morning.  Here  it  is ! "  He  drew  out  an  envelope  and 
threw  it  on  the  table. 

"  I  won't  touch  it,"  cried  the  Burgomaster. 

"Then  shall  I  take  it  to  your  office?  It's  the  official 
one,  you  see." 

"No,"  cried  tlie  Burgomaster  still  more  loudly,  "you 
shall  not.     You  shall  not  disgrace  yourself  for  some  absurd 


116  JOOST   AVELIXGH, 

whim  or  other  !  I  tell  you,  you  will  make  yourself  generally 
despicable  ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost. 

"  Is  that  what  you  want  to  do  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  what  I  want  to  do,  sir.  I  do  not  want  to 
give  my  money  ;  let  that  suffice. " 

"  The  man  is  mad,"  said  the  Burgomaster,  casting  up  his 
eyes  in  despair.  "  But  you  are  my  son-in-law,  sir,  and 
Agatha's  husband,  and  you  owe  her  something.  I  can  not 
allow  Agatha's  husband  to  cover  his  name  with  contumely." 

"  Agatha,"  said  Joost  calmly,  "  will  bear  her  share  of  my 
burdens.     She  is  quite  willing  to  do  so." 

"■  Reason  the  more,"  replied  the  Burgomaster  quickly, 
"  for  you  to  desire  to  spare  her." 

Joost  winced.  He  took  up  his  letter  again  and  marched 
to  the  door. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  cried  Mynheer  van  Hessel,  in 
despair,  "  that  you  are  going  to  send  in  that  letter  to  me  as 
Burgomaster  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost,  laying  his  hand  on  the  door-knob. 
The  Burgomaster  sj^rang  up  and  came  running  forward  with 
wonderful  agility,  considering  his  stoutness.  His  face  was 
very  much  discomposed.  "  Look  here,  Joost,"  he  said  in  an 
agitated  voice,  "  it  can't  be  done.  For  Agatha's  sake ;  for 
all  our  sakes ;  well  for — for  mine.  Listen.  Sit  down. 
There  that's  better.  What  was  I  saying  ?  It's  gone  too  far 
now.  I — I — of  course  I  couldn't  know  you  would  draw- 
back like  this,  and  really  it  isn't  gentlemanly  of  you,  Joost, 
not  decent.  I  mean,  I  promised  Timmers  something  you 
see.  I — of  course,  as  Burgomaster,  as  it  was  to  be  in  my 
parish,  I  could  use  my  influence.     And  I  used  it,  Joost." 

"  I  do  not  see  what  that  matters,"  began  his  son-in-law. 
"  If  you  are  unable  to  keep  your  promises — " 

"  Not  exactly  promises,  Joost.  Guarantees ;  call  them 
guarantees.      In  fact,  I — naturally  enough — undertook  to 


MONEY-MAKING   MADE  EASY.  HJ 

sell  hini  the  parish  ground  you  fixed  on — and — well — I've 
sold  it.  And  I  thought  I  might  promise  him  the  contract, 
from  what  you  had  said,  Joost." 

Joost  sat  silent,  a  slight  flush  coming  and  going  on  his 
dark  cheek.     At  last  he  spoke. 

"  What  was  to  be  your  share  of  the  plunder  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Sir !  "  cried  his  father-in-law.  "  How  dare  you  use 
such  language  ?     What  am  I  to  under — " 

Joost  cut  him  short  with  an  imperious  gesture.  "  Let 
us  be  as  brief  as  possible,"  he  said.  "  What  sum  is  to  be 
paid  over  hj  me  to  you,  without  any  questions  on  either  side, 
to  do  away  with  this  difficulty  forever  ?  " 

"  I  refuse  to  be  hectored  in  this  manner,"  began  the 
Burgomaster  anew. 

"  Will  thirty  thousand  florins  do  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  Joost,  Joost,"  wailed  the  Burgomaster,  suddenly 
collapsing.  "  Are  you  so  much  in  earnest  ?  Money  won't 
do  it,  Joost.  I'm  sorry  to  say  there's  another  difficulty. 
You — you  are  to  be  trusted,  I  suppose  ?  "  He  leered  across 
at  his  son-in-law,  "  And  you  are  absolutely  resolved  ?  " 

"Absolutely,"  said  Joost. 

"  Well  there's  been  a  little  unpleasantness  about  the  ad- 
ministration. It's  a  great  shame  of  the  Governor,  and  he 
my  wife's  cousin  too ;  and,  really  if  I  were  to  sum  up  all  his 
deficiencies  :  But  it's  always  like  that ;  we  minor  grandees 
pay  the  reckoning.     You  understand  ?  " 

"  Partly,"  said  Joost. 

"  I  can  assure  you — need  I  assure  you  ? — that  I  am  per- 
fectly innocent.  Accidents  will  happen,  and  no  one  can  be 
always  accurate.  He  behaved  shockingly;  all  personal  spite  ! 
But  he  might  have  made  things  very  disagreeable  for  me. 
And — and — " 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Joost. 

"  I  was  obliged  to  propose  tliis  plan  of  yours,  Joost — put 
it  a  little,  you  know,  as  if  it  was  my  idea.    -You  don't  ob- 


118  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

ject  to  that,  eh  ?  I  must  say  I  have  often  thought  a  similar 
institution  would  be  very  beneficial.  And — and  it  put  the 
Governor  in  a  good  temper,  you  see." 

"  I  see,"  said  Joost.  "  And  what  was  the  Governor's 
share  of  the  plunder  ?  " 

"  Ha,  ha,"  laughed  his  father-in-law.  "  Very  good,  you 
always  were  very  satirical,  Joost." 

"And  this,"  said  Joost,  "this  little  unpleasantness  is 
what  the  Governor  is  coming  about,  I  suppose.  And  I  am 
to  pay  off  the  score  ?  " 

The  words  had  scarcely  left  his  lips,  when  the  door 
opened  and  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  came  in. 

"  I  fancy  I  must  have  left  my  key-basket  here,  Henrik," 
she  said,  "  I  think  it  is  under  the—"  She  stopped  suddenly 
as  she  caught  sight  of  the  two  faces  before  her.  "  What  is 
wronff?"  she  asked  with  a  woman's  intuition.  She  went 
back  to  the  door  and  shut  it  carefully.  "  What  is  wrong  ?  " 
she  repeated. 

Neither  answered. 

"  Some  money  question  of  course,"  she  went  on,  "  I  can 
see  that.  So  much  the  better,  when  it  is  only  money,  and 
not  a  fright  like  Agatha's  illness  the  other  day,  Joost.  But 
what  is  it  ?  " 

Still  neither  man  spoke. 

"  I  will  know,"  she  went  on  vehemently.  "  I  have  seen 
for  a  long  time,  Henrik,  that  something  was  amiss.  I  have 
Avaited  for  you  to  tell  me,  because  I  knew  you  never  kept  a 
secret  from  me  long.  If  you  keep  this,  it  must  be  a  very 
bad  one.  But,  what  Joost  knows,  surely,  I  may  know ;  and 
so  you  will  tell  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Burgomaster,  "  presently.  Eeally, 
my  dear,  it  is  nothing." 

"  Has  he  been  borrowing  money  of  you,  Joost  ?  "  asked 
Mevrouw.  "  I  am  afraid  there  is  not  so  much  money  as 
there  used  to  be.     But  we  must  not  borrow  from  you." 


MONEY-MAKING   MADE   EASY.  Hg 

"  No,  no,  mamma,"  muttered  Joost.  "  You  don't  owe 
;ne  a  stiver."  lie  addressed  his  mother-in-law  as  mamma 
according  to  the  invariable  Dutch  rule.  He  called  the 
Burgomaster  papa  too,  as  in  duty  bound  when  he  called  him 
anything  at  all. 

"  If  there  is  less  money,  Henrik,"  Mevrouw  went  on, 
"  we  must  live  differently.  There  is  nothing  to  worry  about 
in  that.  What  does  the  loss  of  money  matter  as  long  as 
there  is  no  disgrace  ?  " 

"  True,"  said  Joost,  as  if  to  himself.  "  What  does  the 
loss  of  money  matter  as  long  as  there  is  no  disgrace  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  There  is  money  enough,"  said  Mynheer,  peev- 
ishly. "  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  presently.  Only  Joost 
was  advising  me  to  give  up  my  place  as  Burgomaster,  and 
there  would  not  be  money  enough  then.  No,  certainly, 
Joost,  there  would  not  be  money  enough  then ;  and  what 
would  become  of  us  all  ?  " 

"  Give  up  your  place  as  Burgomaster  !  "  repeated  Mev- 
rouw, looking  in  amazement  from  one  to  the  other. 
"Why?" 

"  It  was  all  a  misunderstanding,"  continued  the  Burgo- 
master.    "  But  it  is  settled  now.     Is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost.  "  Yes,  yes,  there  really  need  be 
nothing  to  trouble  you,  mamma." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Burgomaster  brightening  up,  "  I 
will  tell  you  all  about  it  presently,  Marian.  Joost,  throw 
that  envelope  into  the  fire  ;  I  hate  to  have  loose  papers  lying 
about.  That's  right.  And  now,  really,  you  good  people 
must  leave  me  to  my  speech.  Ilisque  feliciter  peradis. 
What  says  the  poet  ? 

"  '  And  all  .aj^rced  it  would  be  best 
To  let  the  little  matter  rest.' 

Good-by,  Joost." 

"(xood-bv,  mamma,"  said  .Joost.      "I  assure  you  there 


120  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

need  be  nothing  to  trouble  you,     Pajia  owes  me  nothing. 
And  I  am  sure  there  will  be  money  enough." 

"  A  swindler  for  a  father,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  got 
into  his  sledge.  "And  for  a  husband  a — ah  well,  poor 
Agatha ! " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  ARE    YOU    ILL,    AVELINGH  ?  " 

That  same  evening  there  was  a  large  dinner-party  at 
the  van  Hessel's  in  honor  of  the  Governor  of  the  Province, 
come  over  on  a  visit  of  inspection.  The  Burgomaster, 
beaming  over  his  vast  shirt-front,  genial,  smiling,  full  of 
little  quips  and  quibbles,  sat  at  the  foot  of  a  great  table  cov- 
ered with  plate  and  crystal,  round  which  some  twenty-four 
guests  were  grouped.  Ojoposite  him,  half-hidden  behind 
fruit  and  flowers,  sat  Mevrouw,  with  the  Governor  at  her 
right  hand,  a  little  ferrety  man  with  pepper  and  salt  mus- 
taches and  keen  eyes — a  connection,  you  know  ;  at  least,  he 
had  married  Mevrouw's  second  cousin.  They  remembered 
the  relationship,  now  he  was  Governor. 

Joost,  gazing  across  at  his  mother-in-law,  said  to  himself 
that  she  had  recently  grown  much  older  in  appearance. 
There  was  an  anxious,  careworn  look  about  her  eyes  which 
did  not  match  at  all  with  her  stately  bearing.  And  now, 
when  she  ticked  her  finger  against  the  back  of  her  hand, 
there  was  quite  as  much  nervousness  as  impatience  in  the 
movement. 

"  Yes,"  she  was  saying  to  the  Governor,  "  I  remember 
Leenebet*  perfectly  well  as  a  child.     We  used  to  go  picking 

*  Helena  Elizabeth. 


"ARE   YOU   ILL,   AVELINGH."  121 

apples  iu  my  father's  orchard,  and  Leenebet  always  brought 
me  the  biggest.     She  was  such  a  dear,  unselfish  child." 

"  I  dare  say  the  small  ones  were  riper,"  said  the  Gov- 
ernor. "  Not  such  a  fool  after  all,  that  wife  of  mine." 
He  was  tasting  the  wine  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue  and 
telling  himself  that  the  Burgomaster,  whatever  else  he 
might  mismanage,  must  certainly  be  a  careful  judge  of 
wine. 

"  Bad  for  children,"  he  continued  after  a  pause,  reflect- 
ively.    "  Raw  apples  !  Give  them  pain  in  their  insides." 

Mevrouw  smiled  acquiescence  without  hearing  what  he 
said.  Her  eyes  were  wandering  anxiously  over  the  servants. 
She  could  trust  her  butler,  and  she  could  trust  the  waiter 
from  the  village  who  had  come  up  on  these  occasions  for  the 
last  fifteen  years.  But  she  could  not  be  certain  that  the 
young  footman  would  not  drop  some  dish  or  other — for  had 
he  not  spilt  the  soup  last  year  ?  and,  on  the  other  hand,  she 
could  be  certain — for  her  olfactory  nerves  had  supplied  her 
with  proof  positive — that  the  coachman  had  again  tried  the 
quality  of  his  master's  claret.  She  smiled,  therefore,  sweetly 
to  the  Governor  and  wondered  whether  Toon  had  already 
had  too  much  and,  if  not,  whether  he  would  last  out  the  bill 
of  fare.  There  was  a  buzz  of  conversation,  and  a  mingled 
odor  of  flowers,  perfumes,  and  hot  gravy.  The  guests  were 
thinkinf;  of  themselves  or  of  the  Governor.  The  Governor 
was  thinking  of  the  wine. 

"  Yes,"  Dr.  Kern  was  saying.  Dr.  Kern  was  the  village 
doctor,  present  in  his  quality  as  influential  member  of  the 
Board — "  Yes,  I  very  nearly  missed  the  beginning  of  your 
speech,  Burgomaster,  and  I  should  have  been  very  sorry  for 
tliut.  But  we  doctors  are  never  masters  of  our  time,  you 
know." 

"  Practically  slavery,"  said  a  lazy-looking  gentleman,  op- 
posite. 

"  It  would  be  slavery,  sir,"  replied  the  doctor  severely, 


122  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

"  if  it  were  not  work  for  so  divine  a  mistress.     Now,  it  is 
honorable  service." 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course,"  said  the  lazy  gentleman,  who  really 
did  not  care  what  kind  of  work  it  was  as  long  as  he  had  not 
to  do  it. 

"  Now  only  this  morning,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  just 
as  my  wife  was  fastening  the  bow  of  my  white  tie,  Jan 
Smee's  son  came  running  in  to  say  his  father  had  had  another 
of  those  attacks.  So  I  had  to  rush  down  to  the  smithy  with 
him.  I  couldn't  very  well  let  the  old  smith  die,  even  for 
your  speech,  could  I,  Burgomaster  ?  " 

"  Would  it  have  mattered  very  much,"  drawled  van  As- 
veld  to  his  neighbor,  "  if  there  had  been  one  Smith  less  in 
the  world  ?  They  are  surely  a  sufficiently  numerous  family." 
His  neighbor  was  a  kind-hearted  girl,  and  did  not  see  the 
joke. 

Van  Asveld  was  there  in  virtue  of  his  position  as  clerk 
in  the  Burgomaster's  office.  Having  painfully  toiled  through 
the  University  curriculum  and  taken  his  degree,  he  had  re- 
cently obtained  this  post,  through  the  influence  of  friends. 
The  duties  were  extremely  light;  the  post  was  a  genteel 
one ;  the  salary — ten  pounds  a  year — almost  paid  the  Jon- 
ker's  cigar  bill  in  that  land  of  cheap  cigars.  Our  friend  had 
grown  still  fatter,  redder,  already  a  little  bald.  He  looked 
like  one  who  has  lived,  not  wisely,  but  too  well.  He  was 
still  unmarried,  the  fair  sugar-planter's  daughter  having  re- 
fused the  honors  of  the  van  Asveld  coronet.  He  subsisted, 
as  he  himself  said,  "  on  the  interest  of  his  debts,"  and  no 
one  could  see  that  he  was  obliged  to  deny  himself  anything. 
There  was  a  suspicion — just  a  suspicion — that  he  drank  now 
and  then. 

"  You  see  one  has  to  be  careful  with  these  cases,"  the 
doctor  went  on,  prosing  a  little  about  his  patients  as  he  was 
apt  to  do.  "  It  is  impossible  to  foresee  what  turn  they  will 
take.    I  have  told  Smee's  people  a  dozen  times :  he  may  live 


"ARE  YOU  ILL,   AVELINGH."  123 

till  eighty,  and  he  may  die  to-night.  Apoplectic,  you  know ; 
complications  about  the  heart.  Rush  of  blood  to  the  head. 
Fit.     Off  the  man  goes.     Or  he  gets  better,  you  know." 

"  And  which  is  most  liable  to  happen  when  the  doctor 
comes  ?  "  asked  the  lazy  gentleman.  He  asked  it  in  all  good 
faith,  thinking  he  must  say  something,  and  not  knowing 
what  it  was  all  about.  His  thoughts  were  merely  talking  in 
their  sleep. 

His  question  was  answered  in  all  seriousness  none  the 
less.  "  It  is  most  important  that  a  physician  should  be 
there,"  said  the  doctor,  "  but  it  is  not  absolutely  necessary. 
Any  one  with  a  grain  of  common  sense  knows  what  to  do. 
Of  course,  you  unloosen  everything,  give  the  patient  repose 
and  breathing-room  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  bring 
him  too  in  the  regular  way.  I  needn't  enter  into  particulars. 
Every  student  of  medicine  can  tell  you  more  than  is  neces- 
sary. As  I  say,  common  sense  helps  us  a  good  deal  in  these 
matters." 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  Burgomaster,  "  that  the  man  who 
followed  the  promptings  of  his  unaided  intellect  always  did 
just  the  wrong  thing  in  medicine." 

"  Oh  well,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  I  don't  belong  to  the 
younger  school.  And  as  for  that,  the  right  kind  of  apoplexy 
kills  you,  doctor  or  no  doctor.  Then  comes  the  fit,  and  then 
the  coup  lie  sang,  as  we  call  it.  It's  in  cases  of  the  latter 
sort,  that  so  much  depends  on  common  sense.  I  believe 
many  and  many  a  man  has  died  of  strangulation,  so  to  speak, 
just  because  of  want  of  some  helping  finger  to  loosen  his 
cravat." 

"  Oh  come,  doctor,"  said  the  lazy  gentleman,  suddenly 
waking  up,  "  loosen  his  cravat !  Come,  come ;  you're  jok- 
ing." 

"  Nothing  is  farther  from  my  thoughts,  my  dear  sir," 
cried  Doctor  Kern.  "  Now,  only  this  morning  I  found  Baas 
Smee,  gurgling  and  choking,  with  purple  face,  although  I've 


124  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

told  liis  wife  half-a-dozeu  times  before  exactly  what  she  was 
to  do.  If  I  had  come  half  an  hour  later  the  man  would 
probably  have  been  dead.  Now,  he  may,  as  I  said,  live  an- 
other twenty  years  or  more.  He'll  die  of  a  regular  fit  some 
day,  if  he  doesn't  die  sooner  of  one  of  these  rushes  of  blood 
to  the  head.  Of  course,  if  the  man  were  to  live  reasonably 
— but  there,  there !  Your  uncle,  by-the-by,  had  just  such 
a  constitution,  Avelingh — "  he  looked  across  at  Joost,  sit- 
ting opposite,  a  little  higher  up,  and  jilaying  moodily  with 
his  knife. 

"  Oh — ah — what  did  you  say,  doctor?  "  asked  Joost  with- 
out looking  up. 

"  Your  uncle  van  Trotsem  was  just  such  a  kind  of  pa- 
tient as  this  good  Baas.  He  might  have  lived  another 
twenty  years  for  aught  I  knew  to  the  contrary.  Not  that  I 
thought  he  would.  But  1  should  certainly  have  given  him 
one  or  two  more.  And  I  thought  it  strange — But,  there  ; 
it's  an  old  story,  and  no  one  can  care  much  about  it." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  van  Asveld,  bending  forward, 
for  Joost  did  not  speak,  "  we  are  very  much  interested.  You 
know  old  van  Trotsem  was  a  connection  of  mine  too,  doctor." 

"  Well,  I  was  only  going  to  say,  I  thought  it  strange  at 
the  time  that  with  his  constitution  he  didn't  pull  through 
that  attack,  whatever  it  may  have  been.  As  for  living  rea- 
sonably, of  course — forgive  me,  Avelingh — but  he  lived  like 
a  madman.  Talk  of  an  unsound  heart !  as  I  said  to  my 
wife  at  the  time,  '  An  unsound  brain  into  the  bargain  ! ' 
Well,  he's  dead,  poor  man,  but  when  they  sent  for  me,  and 
I  found  him  lying  there,  I  said  to  myself :  '  This  oughtn't 
to  have  been,  van  Trotsem.  Himself  to  blame,  of  course. 
None  the  less  sad  on  that  account.'  " 

"  Are  you  ill,  Avelingh  ?  "  asked  van  Asveld  suddenly. 
The  question  was  prompted  by  sincere  surprise  and  involun- 
tary sympathy.  His  eyes  had  wandered  to  Avelingh's  face, 
as  the  doctor  ceased  speaking. 


"ARE  YOU  ILL,   AVELINGH."  125 

Joost  and  Arthur  sat  opposite  each  other.  Their  eyes 
met.  "  No,  thank  you,"  said  Joost  controlling  himself  with 
a  mighty  effort  and  forcing  the  blood  back  into  his  cheeks. 
He  drew  himself  up  and  threw  forward  his  chest.  "  Why 
do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  you  looked  it,"  answered  van  Asveld  angi-ily. 
"  Looked  as  if  you'd  seen  a  ghost.  Hang  it,  I  don't  care." 
He  turned  to  his  fair  neighbor  :  "  Are  you  afraid  of  ghosts, 
freule  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  replied  that  lady  unconditionally. 

"  They  move  in  the  best  families,"  Arthur  went  on. 
"  And  really  almost  the  only  occupation  left  for  a  gentleman 
nowadays  is  to  starve  and  turn  ghost.  I  wish  I  knew  of  a 
vacancy.  It  might  be  worth  while  to  apply.  The  people  in 
authority  seem  to  forget — "  he  raised  his  voice  and  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  Governor — "  that  the  greatness  of 
Holland,  from  the  time  of  Brederode  upward,  has  always 
depended  on  the  young  men  of  its  old  houses." 

The  Goverijpr  heard  him.  He  smiled  a  complacent  lit- 
tle smile.  "  I  fear  we  must  admit,  my  dear  van  Asveld,"  he 
said,  beaming  at  the  Jonker  with  a  benevolent  wave  of  the 
hand,  "  that  the  young  men  of  the  old  families  so  often  fail 
us,  that  we  have  to  make  a  shift  for  it,  as  best  we  can,  with 
the  old  men  of  the  young  families  nowadays." 

"  Every  one  seems  singing  their  own  praises,"  said  Bette- 
koo  to  her  neighbor,  frankly  and  ungrammatically.  The 
Governor  was  a  parvenu,  raised  to  his  exalted  position — it 
was  whispered — because  he  had  surprised  an  ugly  secret 
about  a  government  tender.  Such  things  happen  in  all 
countries.     Perhaps  the  whisper  was  not  true. 

"  I  will  sing  yours  all  day,  if  you  will  allow  me,"  was  the 
immediate  answer,  for  Bettekoo's  neighbor  was  in  love  with 
her  and  he,  she  and  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  were  looking  out 
for  a  good  opportunity  for  him  to  tell  her  so. 

But  at  this  moniont  the  Uurgomaster  struck  his  df'sscrt- 


fr> 


126  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

knife  against  his  wine-glass  and  rose  np  in  all  his  portly  im- 
portance. He  looked  round  on  the  assembled  guests ;  con- 
versations died  away  with  a  sudden  hush  or  a  nervous  little 
laugh,  and  a  deep  silence  fell  upon  all. 

"  Highly  Noble  Austerity,"  said  the  Burgomaster's  so- 
norous voice,  "  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  you  will  forgive  me, 
if,  seeing  you  all  thus  gathered  together  here  this  evening,  I 
take  the  oj^portunity  of  saying  a  few  words  in  connection 
with  an  auspicious  event  which  has  recently  surprised  and 
— and  delighted — this  whole  parish.  Need  I  say  that  I  al- 
lude to  the  magnificent  offer  of  an  institution  for  the  aged 
and  deserving  poor,  recently  made  by  my  dear  son-in-law, 
Joost  Avelingh.  That  offer  has  been  submitted  this  morn- 
ing to  you.  Highly  Noble  Austerity,  as  the  representative  of 
our  most  gracious  sovereign  ;  it  has  met  with  your  full  ap- 
proval, and  I  do  not  doubt  that  it  will  be  gratefully  accepted 
by  the  Parochial  Board  at  their  next  meeting.  The  plans 
have  been  already  drawn  up ;  the  rules  made  out ;  and,  with- 
out going  too  far,  I  can  safely  say  that  the  donation  is  a  re- 
gal one,  the  j^roposed  building  a  palace,  the  man  who  con- 
ceived such  charity  as  this  a  king  among  benefactors."  The 
Burgomaster  warmed  to  his  task.  "  Ladies  and  G-entlemen," 
he  continued,  "  it  is  a  proud  moment  for  me  when  I  can  look 
the  king's  representative  in  the  face  and  say, '  The  commune 
in  which  these  things  are  done  is  that  of  which  I  have  the 
honor  to  be  mayor,  and  the  man  who  does  them  is  my  son- 
in-law  ! '  And  therefore,  when  the  question  first  came  to 
me  :  *  Father,  shall  I  do  this  thing  ? '  my  heart  leaped  up 
in  answer,  and  with  all  the  strength  of  my  influence  as  a 
parent,  all  the  energy  of  my  will  and  my  desire,  I  answered 
and  continued  to  answer  :  '  Do  it ! '  till  lo,  the  thing  is  done. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  assume  any  undeserved  merit — 7ion 
mihi  tantus  Jionos,  eh,  doctor? — but  we  all  know  what  the 
poet  says :  '  A  wise  word  wisely  spoken  in  the  wisest  hour." 
Ah  well,  no  more  of  that.     Joost  Avelingh,  it  is  a  wonder- 


"ARE  YOU   ILL,   AVELLXGH."  127 

ful,  a  beautiful  tiling  to  be  possessed  of  influence.  The  lord- 
ship of  great  wealth  bestows  the  lordship  of  this  world ;  the 
use  of  it  for  the  benefit  of  our  brethren  achieves  a  title-deed 
to  the  next !  I  am  proud,  sir,  that,  for  my  dearly  loved 
daughter's  sake,  you  call  me  by  the  name  of  father.  Ladies 
and  Gentlemen,  I  invite  you  to  drink  to  the  success  of  the 
Avelingh  Institute  for  the  Aged  Poor,  and  I  couple  with  that 
invitation  the  name  of  the  Institute's  illustrious  founder,  my 
son-in-law,  Joost  Avelingh." 

The  Burgomaster  waved  his  wine-glass  gracefully  in  the 
direction  of  the  man  whose  eulogy  he  had  pronounced.  All 
other  glasses  were  lifted  round  the  table  ;  there  was  a  mur- 
mur of  benevolence  and  admiration,  a  general  flow  of  inter- 
est and  sympathy  toward  the  hero  of  the  moment.  "  Excel- 
lent," said  the  Governor,  tapping  one  finger  against  his  plate, 
"  excellent,  excellent ;  oh  yes,  very  well  indeed."  He  was 
not  a  little  hurt  to  find  that  the  Burgomaster  had  passed 
him  over,  and  that  the  toast  of  the  evening,  if  there  was  to 
be  any  toastingjit  all,  should  not  be  addressed  to  him,  the 
king's  representative.  Mynheer  van  Hessel  had  purposely 
acted  thus  ;  it  was  his  little  revenge  for  the  uncomfortable 
quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  spent,  before  all  was  smoothed 
over,  with  the  husband  of  his  wife's  cousin.  The  impor- 
tance of  the  charitable  grant  seemed  to  provide  sufficient  ex- 
cuse. 

Conversation  resumed  its  flow ;  the  endless  dessert  which 
Dutch  dinner-givers  still  affect  slowly  crept  on  through  its 
successive  stages  ;  yet  the  fruits  preserved  in  brandy  which 
invariably  conclude  the  proceedings  were  already  going  round 
before  Joost  rose  to  reply.  He  tossed  back  his  black  hair  in 
rising ;  his  face  showed  pale  beneath  the  dark  skin ;  ho 
looked  stalwart  and  strong  and  resolved. 

"  Highly  Noble  Austerity,  he  began,  in  a  clear,  calm 
voice,  with  just  the  faintest,  incipient  possibility  of  a  sneer 
over  the  ludicrous  titles,  "  Kight  Nobly  Respectable  Sir  Bur- 


128  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

gomaster,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  if  I  rise  to  thank  you  for 
your  good  wishes,  as  in  duty  bound,  it  must  be  clearly  under- 
stood that  I  do  not,  by  such  recognition  of  them,  in  anyway 
take  unto  myself  as  my  rightful  property  the  praises  which 
the  Burgomaster  has  lavished  upon  me.  What  I  have  done, 
I  have  done  from  no  especially  noble  motive.  I  have  done 
it  for  reasons  of  my  own.  If  it  conduce  in  however  small  a 
degree  to  the  happiness  of  any  human  being — "  his  eyes  in- 
voluntarily strayed  to  Mevrouw  van  Hessel — "  I  shall  be 
grateful  to  God.  I  do  not  say — as  is  customary — I  shall  feel 
amply  rewarded.  I  do  not  look  for  reward.  And  none  of 
us,  surely,  neither  you  nor  I,  nor  any  fellow-sinner,  overlook- 
ing our  past  life,  with  its  bad  actions  and  its  so-called  good 
ones,  making  up  the  sum  total  of  our  existence,  would  dare 
to  bring  the  balance  sheet  before  the  throne  of  God  and 
standing  there — " 

Suddenly  the  goblet  which  he  held  up  in  one  hand  broke 
right  across  the  slender  stem.  The  upper  half  slipped  down 
with  a  crash  of  breaking  glass  and  splashing  wine.  In 
another  second  dark  drops  of  blood  fell  heavily  on  the  shin- 
ing tablecloth.  The  speaker  stopped,  irresolute,  evidently 
annoyed.  He  opened  his  palm,  full  of  blood  and  broken 
crystal.  The  speech  was  at  an  end.  The  whole  company 
sat  staring  at  him  in  amazement.  Once  again  during  that 
memorable  dinner  he  found  himself  the  meeting-point  of  all 
looks  and  all  thoughts.  Agatha  came  running  round  to  her 
husband  with  her  wretched  little  bit  of  embroidered  cam- 
bric to  wash  out  the  wound.  The  party  broke  up,  leaving 
them  alone  together.  "  It  is  nothing,  really  nothing,"  fal- 
tered Joost. 

"  He  must  have  held  that  glass  in  a  vice  like  the  devil's," 
said  van  Asveld  to  Kees,  as  they  filed  out  after  the  ladies, 
"'  why  the  stem  was  actually  crushed  into  pieces." 

"  Yes ;  very  extraordinary,"  said  Kees. 

Dutch  gentlemen — after  coffee  has  been  served — do  not 


'•ARF,    VOU   ILL,   AVELINGII."  129 

linger  over  their  wine  in  the  old-fashioned  English  man- 
ner, but  they  go  into  the  room  of  the  master  of  the  house 
and  sit  for  half-an-hour  or  so  over  cigars  and  liquors.  When 
Joost  joined  the  others  presently  with  his  hand  tied  up,  he 
was  full  of  jokes  at  his  own  great  clumsiness,  good-humor- 
edly  patient  under  floods  of  chaff,  and  ready  to  laugh  his 
loudest  at  any  pleasantry  whatsoever.  The  doctor  cast 
searching  glances  at  him  once  or  twice  from  his  kindly  gray 
eyes.     He  had  known  Joost  from  earliest  childhood. 

"  If  the  man  were  not  sincerity  itself,"  he  thought,  "  as 
any  one  can  see  -he  is,  one  would  feel  inclined  to  think  he 
was  acting  a  part.  But  it  is  nothing  of  the  kind ;  I  am 
sure  of  it.  He  is  spontaneously  boisterous  and  reserved — 
melancholy  and  gay,  but  all  the  moods  have  some  common 
source  of  overstrained  excitement.  I  can't  imagine  what  he 
has  to  excite  him.  But  he  was  always  a  nervous,  impres- 
sionable child.  I  shall  recommend  him  a  cold-water-cure 
next  summer." 

The  object  of  these  considerations  came  up  at  this  very 
moment  and  sat  down  beside  the  doctor.  "  You  were  talk- 
ing about  my  uncle  at  dinner,"  said  Joost.  "  Now  what, 
honestly  and  truly,  as  between  man  and  man,  do  you,  witli 
all  your  professional  experience  and  natural  acuteness,  say 
that  he  died  of,  Doctor  Kern  ?  " 

"  There  you  put  a  very  difficult  question,  my  good  man," 
replied  the  doctor,  thoughtfully  eying  his  cigar.  "  When  a 
medical  authority  is  asked  what  has  actually  caused  death, 
his  safest  answer  is  always  '  want  of  breath.'  Unless  it  be  a 
tile  or  a  chimneypot." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Joost  impatiently  ;  "  but  supposing  you 
to  be  content  with  approximate  accuracy." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Of  course  wo  have  to  fill  up 
our  certificates,  and  I  fear  we  often  put  in  what  comes 
handy — in  all  good  faith,  of  course.  Mind  you,  I  never 
laugh  at  my  profession.     It's  the  grandest  one  on  the  face 


130  JOOST   AYELIKGH. 

of  the  earth.     I  believe  fully  in  my  own  powers.     Only  I 
believe  in  my  own  limitations  too." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost.     And  what  did  my  uncle  die  of  ?  " 

"  I  should  say,"  replied  the  doctor  cautiously,  "  that  the 
cause  of  death  was  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  brain,  probably 
under  the  impulse  of  some  strong  excitement ;  and,  of  course 
the  heart  gave  way.  It  had  been  unsound  for  a  long  time, 
you  know.  Failure  of  the  heart's  action,  in  fact.  But 
really,  as  far  as  some  of  the  symptoms  went,  he  might  have 
choked  himself — or — been  choked.  Strangulation,  in  fact. 
Yes — um,  iim — one  hardly  likes  to  say  it — but,  really,  stran- 
gulation. However,  of  course,  that  is  evidently  and  entirely 
out  of  the  question.  You  Avere  with  him,  at  the  time,  were 
you  not  ?  And  really,  Avelingh,  you  ought  to  know  more 
about  it  than  I  can,  considering  you  studied  medicine.  He 
had — ahem — been— drinking  a  good  deal,  I  believe?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost  gravely,  "  he  had." 

"  Just  so,  in  fact,  I  sliould  say — between  you  and  me — 
he  was  more  than  half  drunk.  Excuse  plain  speaking.  It 
is  a  most  exceptional  case.  Really,  without  a  post-mortem, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  say  what  your  uncle  died  of." 

"  You  filled  in  '  heart-disease,'  "  said  Joost. 
"  Undoubtedly  ;  yes,  and  truthfully.  If  his  heart  had  been 
all  right,  he  would  have  been  alive  this  day,  unless,  of  course, 
he  was  choked — which  he  was  not.  And,  as  I  was  saying 
at  dinner,  he  might  have  been  alive  in  spite  of  his  heart.  A 
strange  business ;  a  very  strange  business."  The  doctor 
smoked  reflectively.  Joost  did  not  speak.  "  By-the-by, 
Avelingh,"  Dr.  Kern  went  on  presently,  "  I  never  give  pro- 
fessional advice  unasked,  but,  if  you  were  to  consult  me 
about  a  pleasant  place  to  spend  a  month  or  so  next  summer, 
I  should  say  :  try  Godesberg.  Pleasant  place  ;  a  little  warm 
in  the  full  season  ;  excellent  hydropathic  establishment. 
Plenty  of  compatriots." 

"  You  say  so  because  I  1;)roke  that  glass  at  dinner,"  cried 


THE  JOXKER'S   LEGACY.  131 

Joost.  "  You  think  nie  nervous  !  Nonsense,  doctor.  Look 
here!"  He  held  out  his  uninjured  hand,  to  show  how 
steady  it  was. 

"  That  goes  for  nothing,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  Mind, 
our  bodies  are  brittle  enough  at  the  best.  No  use  breaking 
them  and  spilling  the  wine.  With  some  of  us  they're  like 
ginger-beer  bottles,  and  the  ginger-beer  works  from  inside 
till  they  burst.  The  human  frame  divine,  you  know,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it.  And — no  advice,  of  course ;  I  never  give 
advice  unasked — but  if  I  were  you,  I  should  some  day  (no 
hurry)  go  to  Godesberg." 

"  They  are  getting  up  to  join  the  ladies,"  said  Joost. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

-   THE   JOXKER's   legacy. 

The  carriages  were  called  at  ten ;  and  Joost  and  Agatha 
went  off  together.  The  various  guests  began  to  disperse 
along  their  several  roads,  and  van  Asveld,  having  walked  up 
the  village-street  with  a  friend,  turned  down  a  quiet  lane, 
which  led  to  his  own  abode.  He  stepped  out  briskly,  smok- 
ing as  he  went,  and  reviewing  the  events  of  the  evening. 
The  great  Charity  interested  him  little,  or  rather  he  looked 
upon  it  with  feelings  of  mingled  irritation  and  disgust.  He 
considered  it,  naturally  enough,  as  a  gigantic  bid  for  popu- 
larity, and  the  only  stupidity  about  it,  when  viewed  in  that 
liglit,  seemed  to  be  that  exactly  the  same  object  might  have 
been  attained  with  one  fifth  of  the  money ;  four-fifths  there- 
fore appeared  absolutely  wasted  even  from  the  donor's 
standpoint.  Why  sliould  all  the  wretched  old  pau])ers  in 
the  province,  after  having  been  hajipy  and  contented   in 


132  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

hovels  all  their  lives,  want  to  die  iu  a  palace  ?  Surely  an 
old  beggar  must  feel  as  uncomfortable  in  such  a  mansion,  as 
he,  van  Asveld,  would  be  in  a  miserable  hut !  Pigs  in  the 
pigsty ;  horses  in  the  stable.  That  was  the  law  of  nature 
and  of — ahem — God. 

Upjiermost  in  the  Jonker's  mind  was  the  thought  of  his 
dead  cousin's  great  wealth.  "  Avelingh  must  be  rolling  in 
gold,"  he  reasoned,  and  the  recollection  of  his  own  conver- 
sation with  the  Baron  van  Trotsem  on  the  very  morning  of 
the  old  man's  last  day  on  earth,  came  back  to  him  with  re- 
vived bitterness.  Often  and  often,  since  that  fatal  day,  he 
had  recalled  the  farewell  scene,  the  old  Baron's  promise  of  a 
considerable  legacy,  the  cruel  disappointment  when  the  will 
was  jjroved  to  speak  of  no  provision  at  all.  Even  now,  after 
ten  years,  Arthur  stamped  his  foot  at  the  recollection,  upon 
the  frozen  snow.  "  Life  had  gone  hardly  with  him,"  he 
thought,  and  not  untruly.  The  failure  of  that  one  hope,  at 
any  rate,  was  as  vivid,  as  irritating  to-day,  as  when  first  it 
became  unpleasantly  patent  to  him  and  to  all  his  creditors. 
Somehow  he  had  convinced  himself  that  both  Joost  and  the 
Baron  had  done  him  a  personal  injury  by  allowing  death  to 
supervene  before  the  necessary  testamentary  arrangements 
had  been  definitely  made.  He  did  not  reason  much  about 
it ;  but  he  liked  Avelingh  none  the  better  because  of  that 
gentleman's  good  luck. 

From  these  reflections  upon  what  might  have  been,  the 
Jonker  naturally  dropped  into  a  review  of  his  present  financial 
position.  There  could  be  nothing  very  attractive  in  that,  and 
he  was  not  displeased  to  find  his  attention  diverted  by  the 
discovery  that  he  was  rapidly  gaining  on  some  one,  who 
seemed  to  be  strolling  leisurely  on,  a  few  paces  ahead. 
Walking  briskly,  as  he  was  doing,  he  had  almost  come  up 
to  the  figure  in  front  before  he  noticed  it  at  all.  "  Who  could 
be  out  in  this  lonely  spot  at  such  an  hour  ?  "  he  asked  him- 
self, "  a   tram]!  perhaps  ?     The  Burgomaster's  clerk  must 


THE  JONKER'S  LEGACY.  133 

see  to  that."  Whatever  van  Asveld  might  be,  he  was  any- 
thing but  a  coward.  He  increased  his  sj)eed  and  came 
alongside  of  the  man.  "  Good  evening,"  he  said.  There 
was  no  necessity  for  courage  of  any  kind.  It  was  only 
Joost  Avelingh. 

"  Avelingh,"  cried  Asveld,  in  great  disgust.  He  had 
expected  to  be  able  to  make  a  show  of  his  authority. 
"  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here,  if  one  may  ask  ?  " 

"  Walking  home,"  replied  Joost,  quietly.  "  And  unless 
you  object,  I  shall  continue  my  road." 

"  It  is  no  business  of  mine,  of  course  !  "  rejDlied  the  other. 
"  Only  it  seems  a  deuced  strange  way  of  getting  back." 

"  I  often  walk  after  such  an  evening,"  said  Joost.  It 
cools  one  down  wonderfully.  Gives  one  a  better  chance  of 
sleep." 

It  was  true.  The  man  who  could  never  be  alone  or  idle 
by  day,  rushing  from  one  occupation  to  another,  reading 
even  while  he  thus  rushed,  the  same  man  would  wander  out 
at  night  for  locg  lonely  walks.  Was  it  because  he  knew 
that,  whether  in  the  house  or  out  of  it,  he  must  be  alone  at 
night?  He  had  put  Agatha  into  the  carriage  and  started 
down  the  dark  road  by  himself.  It  would  take  him  more 
than  an  hour  to  reach  home,  and  the  night  was  bitterly  cold, 
but  he  had  a  fur  coat  on  and  a  cigar  between  his  lips. 

"  Cools  one  down !  I  should  think  so !  "  said  Arthur. 
"  No  danger  of  that.     Freezes  one.     How  is  your  hand  ?  " 

"  Quite  comfortable,  I  thank  you,"  said  Joost  stiffly. 

"  I  thought  you  weren't  looking  well  all  the  evening.  I 
told  you  so  at  the  time.  You  looked  as  ill  as  a  living  man 
can  look,  while  the  doctor  was  speaking  during  dinner  about 
Cousin  Dirk's  death." 

"  It  is  a  painful  subject,"  said  Joost. 

"  Undoubtedly.  Though  scarcely  so  for  you,  I  should 
say.  Oh  yes,  of  course,  and  all  that.  No  doubt.  Ami  I 
(piite  believe  you,  ])ut  if  /  were  to  say  it  was  a  painful  subject 


134  JOOST   AVKLINGH. 

for  me,  a  very  peculiarly  painful  one,  I  am  afraid  the  cynical 

world  would  sooner  believe  me." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean,"  said  Joost,  "  that  you  would  have 
liked  my  uncle  to  leave  you  some  money.  I  have  often  heard 
that  you  were  disappointed  about  some  such  matter.  And  I 
wanted  to  speak  to  you  about  it.  But  I  do  not  see  why  the 
memory  of  my  uncle's  death  should  therefore  be  peculiarly 
painful  to  you.  You  would  not  be  any  the  richer,  I  feel  sure, 
if  he  were  alive  to-day." 

"  No,"  said  van  Asveld,  brusquely,  "  but  I  should  have 
been  richer  if  he  had  lived  a  little  longer,  or  he  was  a 
damned  old  liar." 

They  walked  on  for  several  minutes  in  silence.  At  last, 
when  Joost  spoke,  there  was  an  unmistakable  tremor  in  his 
voice  and  yet  it  only  gave  utterance  to  the  two  simple 
words :  "  How  so  ?  " 

"  How  so  ?  "  repeated  the  other,  "  1  can't  tell  how  much 
you  know,  Avelingh,  and  for  all  I  could  prove,  you  may  be 
as  ignorant  and  innocent  as  a  new-born  babe.  Mind  you,  I 
don't  for  one  moment  insinuate  you  are  not.  Only,  I  can 
scarcely  understand,  that  living  with  you  all  day,  as  the  old 
man  did,  and  bursting  out  into  voluble  rages  as  he  was  apt 
to  do  also,  he  should  never  have  let  out  anything  to  you  of 
his  plan  for  me." 

"  My  uncle's  volubility,"  replied  Joost,  "restricted  itself  to 
a  very  limited  circle  of — "  he  was  going  to  say  "  epithets  "  but 
he  substituted  "  interests.  "  "  There  is  no  reason,  as  you  say, 
why  you  should  believe  me,  but,  if  it  is  any  satisfaction  to 
you,  I  have  no  hesitation  about  declaring  on  my  word  as  a 
gentleman — perhaps  you  do  not  consider  me  entitled  to  give 
that?" 

"  Every  man  is  a  gentleman,"  said  Arthur  haughtily, "  in 
that  sense." 

"  Thank  you.  On  my  word  as  a  gentleman,  or  if  you 
will^  my  Bible  oath  that,  as  far  as  I  had,  or  have,  any  cog- 


THE  JONKER'S  LEGACY.  135 

nizance,  my  uncle,  at  any  rate  till  the  day  of  his  death,  had 
made  no  plans  whatever  on  your  behalf." 

"  Just  so,"  said  van  Asveld,  "  I  don't  doubt  your  word.  I 
dare  say  the  old  close-fist  wouldn't  blab.  But  you  yourself 
make  a  restriction.     Might  I  ask  you  to  explain  it  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  replied  Joost.  "  On  the  last  day  of  his 
life  my  uncle  mentioned  your  name  in  connection  with  his 
will.  He  told  me — why  should  I  not  repeat  it  ? — that  he 
would  rather  leave  his  money  to  you  than  suffer  me  to  diso- 
bey him.  It  was  said  in  a  passion,  as  a  threat.  That  was 
the  only  time  I  heard  of  any  intentions  on  your  behalf.  And 
as  I  tell  you,  the  words  seemed  but  a  passing  allusion.  I 
have  no  more  to  say  on  the  subject." 

"  But  I  liave  !  "  cried  Arthur  hotly  :  "  A  great  deal 
more !  That  remark  was  not  a  passing  allusion,  as  you  choose 
to  call  it.  I  know  better !  Perhaps  I  know  more  than  you 
do.  On  the  very  morning  of  his  death  I  was  closeted  with 
Cousin  Dirk,  as  you  will  scarcely  have  forgotten,  and  when 
I  left  him,  I  took  with  me  the  solemn  assurance,  the  all  but 
written  guarantee,  that  I  should  be  handsomely  remembered 
in  his  will.  He  passed  me  his  word  on  it.  He  told  me  I 
might  trade  on  it  with  the  Jews  or  my  future  father-in-law. 
And  I  tried  to  that  very  afternoon  with  old  Moses ;  only  he 
wouldn't  see  it,  damn  him.  And  he  was  right  in  the  end, 
as  he  told  me  afterward  ;  the  hoary  scoundrel !  But — for  all 
that — if  the  old  beast  had  only  lived  a  little  longer,  I  am 
sure  he  would  have  kept  his  word,  for  he  was  a  gentleman, 
hang  him,  with  all  his  faults,  and  that's  more  than  many  of 
us  can  say." 

"  Do  I  understand,"  asked  Joost,  "  that  my  uncle  gave 
you  his  solemn  assurance  on  the  day  of  his  death  that  he 
would  leave  you  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Arthur,  "didn't  I  say  so?" 

"  And  he  told  you  you  might  trade  on — reckon  on — his 
promise  ?  " 


136  JOOST   AVELINGH. 


again 


"  Yes,"  repeated  Arthur,  "  do  you  want  the  whole  story 
?" 

"  He  did  not,  I  presume,  mention  any  particular 
sum  .'' 

Arthur  hesitated  a  moment — barely  a  moment.  He  re- 
called the  whole  conversation  of  that  eventful  morning,  its 
minutest  details  stood  engraved  in  his  memory  forever :  he 
remembered  the  terms  he  had  proposed  and  his  cousin's  an- 
swer to  them,  and  he  considered  that  he  was  hardly  pre- 
varicating when  he  answered,  "  There  had  been  a  question 
between  us  from  the  first  of  some  forty  or  fifty  thousand 
florins." 

They  walked  on,  after  that,  side  by  side,  through  the 
dark  night.  Presently  said  Arthur :  "  So  you  see  I  have  full 
right  to  complain  that  Cousin  Dirk's  death  is  a  peculiarly 
jiainful  subject  to  me." 

Joost  did  not  answer. 

They  reached  the  house  where  Arthur  had  rooms,  and 
stopped. 

"  Good  night,  Avelingh,"  said  Arthur,  not  too  ungra- 
ciously, holding  out  his  hand. 

"  I  believe  what  you  have  told  me,"  said  Joost  abruptly, 
standing  with  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  fur  coat.  "  I 
see  no  reason  to  disbelieve  it.  In  a  day  or  two,  as  soon  as  I 
can  conveniently  make  the  necessary  arrangements,  I  shall 
instruct  Leening  &  Co.,  who  are  my  bankers,  to  pay  over  to 
you  the  sum  of  forty  thousand  florins  with  compound  inter- 
est from  the  day  of  my  uncle's  demise." 

He  turned  upon  his  heel  without  another  word. 

"  Avelingh,"  the  other  called  after  him,  "  Good  Heavens ! 
Avelingh !     Damn  it.     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Joost  walked  on.  "  What's  the  use  of  long  delibera- 
tions ? "  he  said  to  himself.  "  And  what  does  it  matter 
whether  he  gets  the  money  or  some  other  poor  beggar? 
These   things  when    done   at   all,  are   best   done   quickly. 


THE  JOXKER'S  LEGACY.  137 

And  if  what  he  says  be  true,  I  owe  him  the  money  more 
surely  than  I  owe  my  butcher's  bill." 

Arthur  van  Asveld  remained  standing  by  the  little 
wooden  garden-gate  that  waited  to  admit  him.  He  felt 
dazed,  as  a  man  might  feel  on  being  suddenly  struck  to  the 
ground  by  a  gold  nugget,  with  a  rough  "  That's  for  you  !  " 
His  first  impulse  was  not  to  believe  the  whole  statement,  to 
look  upon  it  as  a  vulgar  joke.  But  "  Xo,"  he  said  to  him- 
self the  next  moment,  "  we  are  not  on  such  terms  as  those 
with  each  other.  And,  besides,  he  was  unmistakably  in  ear- 
nest. Good  heavens,  what  can  he  mean  ?  "  Then  came  a 
momentary  flush  of  admiration  and  gratitude  for  Joost's 
generosity.  And  then  again,  almost  immediately,  while  he 
yet  stood  out  there  in  the  cold,  the  doubt  broke  in  upon 
Arthur's  mind  :  "  Can  all  be  right  and  square  and  above 
hand  with  regard  to  Avelingh's  succession  ?  Men  do  not 
give  away  forty  thousand  florins  like  a  pair  of  old  boots. 
But  they  will  pay  out  that  and  more  than  that,  with  a  rea- 
son. Some  men's  consciences  require  sedatives — Arthur 
smiled  to  himself  in  the  dark — some  men's  secrets  are  best 
buried  in  gold.  Forty  thousand  florins !  What  could  it 
mean  ?  He  regretted  not  having  asked  for  fifty  or  sixty. 
He  was  right,  for  Joost  had  immediately  passed  over  that 
"  or  fifty  "  as  an  attempt  at  mere  extortion. 

"  What  could  it  mean  ?  "  He  asked  himself  the  question 
again  and  again,  as  he  went  up  to  his  room.  Desjiite  the 
pleasure  of  thus  finding  temporary  relief  from  his  most 
pressing  liabilities,  the  question  continued  to  worry  him. 
Why  ?  Why  ?  "  Das  geht  nicht  mit  rechten  Dingen  zu," 
he  said. 


138  JOOST   AVELINCtH. 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
"under  the  surface." 

Agatha  drove  home  by  herself  in  the  carriage,  listening 
vaguely  to  the  regular  tramp  of  the  horses'  feet  on  the  frozen 
snow,  and  dreamily  thinking  of  many  things.  There  had 
been  a  time  when  Joost  would  have  proposed  to  sleigh  back 
with  her  through  the  calm  winter's  night,  and  when  she 
would  not  have  minded  the  cold,  as  long  as  they  were  to- 
gether. Did  he  love  her  less  than  formerly  ?  She  thought 
not.  Differently  ?  No ;  he  had  never  loved  her  quite  as 
she  loved  him.     Had  she  a  right  to  expect  it  ? 

Joost  Avelingh  had  sought  in  his  wife  what  most  men 
seek :  an  ornament,  a  delight,  a  continual  pleasure,  but  not, 
in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  a  companion — a  pet,  dearly 
cherished,  but  not  an  intellectual  equal,  to  be  honored,  con- 
sulted, esteemed.  The  force  of  circumstances,  undoubtedly, 
would  have  made  it  difficult  for  him  to  admit  her  to  his  full 
confidence,  but  he  had  never  sought  or  desired  to  do  so. 
He  loved  Agatha  with  all  the  early  tenderness,  "  too  much 
tenderness  "  might  well  be  said,  if  there  were  no  danger  of 
being  misunderstood.  He  admired  her  pure,  fair  beauty, 
and  he  wished  it  to  be  admired  by  others.  He  was  proud 
of  her  as  she  entered  a  room  with  all  her  mother's  majestic 
bearing,  her  delicate  complexion  changing  with-  every  im- 
pulse of  feeling,  her  eyes  shining  calm  and  good  under  the 
coronet  of  yellow  hair.  Her  beauty  had  developed  into 
fuller  matronhood  as  the  years  went  on.  He  had  never 
loved  her  for  that  beauty  only.  He  had  loved  her  for  her 
goodness,  her  sweetness,  her  purity,  all  that  goes  to  make  a 
good  woman  lovable,  and  he  loved  her  for  them  still.  He 
would  do  anything— that  struck  him— to  give  her  pleasure ; 
any  sorrow  of  hers  was  a  deep  grief  to  him  also.  He  had 
espoused  her,  fully,  loyally,  with  his  heart  forever ;  but  his 


"UNDER  THE   SURFxVCE."  139 

mind's  life,  the  deep,  strong  current  of  his  thinking  soul, 
flowed  lap  to  her,  babbled  round  her,  and  flowed  past. 

She  gave  him  more — who  can  doubt  it  ?  She  gave  him 
what  a  woman  can — her  all.  And  she  was  hapjoy,  though 
with  a  lurking  suspicion  that  she  might  be  much  happier 
still.  It  was  at  particular  moments  esj^ecially,  when  the 
shadow  fell  broad  across  her  sunlight,  that  she  sorrowed 
over  it ;  at  other  times  she  would  strive  to  convince  herself 
that  what  she  condemned  as  shadows  were  but  specks  upon 
the  sun.  It  was  not  in  Agatha  Avelingh's  nature  to  be- 
moan herself,  and  the  wrongs  that  others  did  her  had  to  be 
very  large  indeed  before  her  eye  perceived  them.  She  was 
always  the  last  to  see  any  injury  unless  kind  friends  could 
point  it  out. 

On  this  occasion,  however,  her  heart  was  troubled.  She 
had  not  liked  Joost's  mood  all  through  the  evening.  She 
had  seen — far  more  clearly  than  van  Asveld — how  the  doc- 
tor's talk  at  dinner  had  unnerved  him;  she  had  felt  all  the 
pins  and  needles  of  the  Burgomaster's  speech  in  her  own 
breast  almost  T)efore  they  reached  Joost's;  she  had  been 
much  distressed  and  puzzled  by  the  incident  of  the  broken 
glass.  She  had  often  felt  instinctively  that  her  husband 
kept  his  troubles  from  her.  Could  there  be  money  diffi- 
culties? Hardly.  Agatha  smiled  at  the  thought.  There 
seemed  to  be  too  much  money.  True,  he  never  spoke  to 
her  on  the  subject,  it  being  one  of  his  theories  that  women 
could  know  notliing  about  matters  of  finance,  and  that  it 
was  foolish  to  instruct  them ;  but  she  knew,  none  the  less, 
that  Joost  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  be  much  troubled  by 
pecuniary  considerations.  Something  wrong,  probably,  in 
one  of  his  many  committees  or  councils.  It  vexed  her  more 
tlian  she  would  confess  that  he  never  spoke  to  her  about  all 
tliis  business,  philanthropic,  political,  or  personal,  in  which 
he  was  involved.  When  she  asked  :  "  And  liow  were  tlioy 
in  your  meeting  this  afternoon  ?  "  he  would  answer :  "  Oh, 


140  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

very  good,  love,  but  not  as  good  as  you,"  and  stop  her  mouth 
with  a  kiss.  And  when  she  ventured  to  trot  out  her  wise 
observations  on  the  state  of  modern  polities  at  home  or 
abroad,  he  would  say,  "  They  ought  to  make  you  Prime 
]\Iinister,  dearest.  How  nice  you  would  look  opening  Par- 
liament in  your  new  red  velvet  dress."  What  was  the  use, 
then,  of  asking  him  what  little  matter  worried  him?  It 
only  meant  provoking  the  stereotype  answer :  "  Nothing." 
She  resolved,  as  she  went  up-stairs  to  her  room,  to  do  it  all 
the  same.  She  looked  at  the  clock.  Past  eleven.  She  sat 
down  in  her  dressing-gown  by  the  fire. 

Twice  during  these  years  of  her  married  life  the  joy  of 
motherhood  had  seemed  very  near  to  her ;  twice  her  hope 
had  been  frustrated,  the  bright  dream  had  faded  into  air 
like  a  mirage.  She  regretted  the  disappointment  certainly, 
but  when  she  rose  from  her  weary  bed  of  sickness,  her  heart, 
rebounding  to  her  husband,  found  no  room  for  loneliness 
or  repining.  For  Joost,  the  regret  was  a  much  stronger 
one.  His  had  been — and  still  Avas — the  masculine  desire 
for  a  child,  a  child,  namely,  not  merely  for  love,  but  for 
honor,  ambition,  enjoyment,  for  all  its  capabilities  of  great- 
ness and  success.  It  was  the  only  thing  he  would  gladly 
have  changed  in  Agatha,  the  one  misfortune  he  could  almost 
have  reproached  her  for. 

It  was  nearly  twelve,  when  the  husband,  softly  pushing 
open  the  door,  a  candle  in  his  hand,  suddenly  came  into  the 
unexpected  brightness. 

"  Up  still !  "  he  said.  "  I  thought  you  would  have  been 
in  bed  long  ago.  I  wish  you  would  not  sit  up  for  me,  dear- 
est.    You  know  how  often  I  have  told  you  I  do  not  like  it." 

"  But  I  like  it  so  much,"  she  answered,  "  I  can  not  bear 
going  to  bed  and  to  sleep  quite  comfortably  and  unconcern- 
edly, while  you  are  still  out  in  the  cold,  as  if  we  were  not 
married  at  all.  And  it  is  such  a  real  pleasure  to  see  you 
come  home." 


"UNDER  THE  SURFACE."  141 

She  spoiled  him,  this  handsome,  melancholy  husband  of 
hers.  Could  she  wonder  if  afterward  she  had  cause  to  com- 
plain of  his  behavior  ?  Very  few  husbands  can  stand  being 
systematically  spoiled. 

They  began  to  talk  of  the  evening's  experiences,  she 
making  the  greater  part  of  the  observations  upon  them,  he 
answering  in  monosyllables,  mostly.  Dutch  gentlemen 
rarely  have  dressing-rooms :  Joost  had  one  and  but  seldom 
used  it.  He  left  the  door  open  and  the  gas  turned  up,  and 
wandered  in  and  out  to  his  wife.  He  listened  to  what  was 
chiefly  innocent  gossip  with  a  certain  appearance  of  inter- 
est. He  had  almost  forgotten  the  scene  with  van  Asveld, 
barely  half-an-hour  ago.  It  had  made  but  little  impression 
upon  him.  The  gift  of  the  money  had  left  him  supremely 
indifferent.  Perhaps,  if  had  weighed  the  matter  in  the 
silence  of  his  own  room,  leisurely  considering  the  pros  and 
cons,  he  would  have  concluded  not  to  give  Arthur  the 
money.  Who  shall  say  ?  But  now  he  had  acted,  as  he  so 
often  did,  upon  a  sudden  impulse,  and  he  was  not  sorry  it 
should  have  been  so.  It  was  an  impulse  altogether  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  nature  and  with  his  present  mode  of 
thought.  What  did  money  matter  to  him?  He  was  only 
too  anxious  to  get  rid  of  it  in  a  manner  pleasing  to  his  con- 
science. And  to  the  peculiar  promptings  of  that  conscience 
the  Jonkcr  van  Asveld's  claims  seemed  especially  plausible. 
He  did  not  like  van  Asveld  certainly.  Reason  the  more  to 
do  him  the  strictest  justice.  The  whole  matter  seemed 
scarcely  worth  a  thought,  unless  it  were  to  extract  a  mo- 
mentary pleasure  from  the  idea  of  having  done  what  might 
perhaps  be  best.  Perhaps  it  was  not  really  the  best  ?  Well, 
of  such  stuff  are  we  mortals  made  that  the  second  best  must 
do  as  well. 

And  Agatha  prattled  on  of  many  things  while  her  heart 
still  dwelt  on  one.  She  was  yearning  to  speak  to  Joost  of 
his  trouble,  of  his  sudden  sickness,  of  the  broken  glass.     An 


142  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

accident?  No,  it  was  more  than  that.  A  loving  woman 
reads  her  husband's  countenance  like  an  open  book  after  ten 
years  of  married  life,  even  when  that  countenance  is  as 
habitually  dark  and  overcast  as  Joost  Avelingh's.  And  she 
had  seen,  from  her  distant  place  across  the  table,  had  seen, 
as  no  other  had,  the  nervous  grip  tightening  slowly  around 
the  brittle  stem.  What  thought  tormented  him  ?  Had  she, 
his  lawful,  loyal  wife,  not  the  fullest  right  to  know  ? 

"  Joost,"  she  said,  with  her  back  turned  to  him — stand- 
ing before  her  looking-glass.     "  How  is  your  hand  ?  " 

"  You  asked  me  that  just  before  you  started,  Agatha," 
replied  Joost,  a  little  crossly.  "  That  is  not  two  hours  ago. 
Are  you  going  to  ask  me  every  two  hours  ?  " 

"  I  am  so  afraid,  dearest,  that  some  glass  may  have  re- 
mained in  the  wound.     It  was  quite  a  deep  cut." 

"  A  mere  scratch.  Nonsense,  if  one  had  nothing  to  bear 
but  that !     The  hand  is  all  right,  I  tell  you." 

"  And  the  heart  ?  "  she  said,  suddenly  facing  him. 

"  The  heart,"  he  echoed,  laughing  uneasily,  "  why, 
Agatha,  the  heart — as  they  say  in  the  bulletins — is  as  well  as 
can  be  expected  under  the  circumstances." 

"  I  should  so  like  it  to  be  quite  happy,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Quite  happy  !  "  he  repeated  bitterly.     "  Who  is  hap- 

py-" 

"  They  who  are  at  rest." 

Again  he  caught  up  the  word.  "  Rest !  "  he  said.  "  You 
know  what  the  Bible  tells  us,  Agatha.  '  There  is  no  rest, 
saith  my  God,  for  the  wicked.'  We  are  all  wicked,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

There  was  an  unpleasant  lightness  in  his  tone  that  jarred 
upon  the  words. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  more  softly  still.  "  We  are  all 
wicked,  and  that  perhaps  is  why  the  peace  of  God,  when 
once  it  comes,  is  said  by  that  same  Bible  to  pass  all  under- 
standing." 


•'UNDER  THE  SURFACE."  143 

"  Then  it's  uo  use  trying  to  understand  it,"  remarked 
Joost. 

"  No,  dearest,  but  I  believe  each  individual  soul  cwifeel 
the  answer  to  the  question  whether  it  is  at  peace  with  God 
or  not." 

He  did  not  seem  to  listen  much  to  what  she  was  sa3dug. 
"  Rest ! "  he  cried.  "  Peace  !  Beautiful  words,  in  sooth. 
We  mortals  have  not  learned  to  be  so  ambitious.  We  do  not 
ask  for  cooling  breezes,  only  for  a  little  tempering  of  the 
flame.  '  Reach  down  thy  finger  and  touch  but  the  tip  of 
my  tongue  ! '     Our  hearts  are  burning." 

Agatha  drew  near  to  him.  He  almost  pushed  her  from 
him. 

"  You  religious  people,"  he  said,  "  talk  about  all  the 
pains  and  penalties  in  the  beyond.  Penalties  for  what? 
The  pleasures  of  the  present  ?  Great  God  !  if  Hell  be  yon- 
der, then  what  is  this  ?  And  do  thy  creatures  pass  from 
suffering  to  suffering  ?    From  hell  of  earth  to  hell  of  hell  ?  " 

"  Joost !  J^ost !  "  cried  Agatha,  "  Oh  dearest,  sin  alone 
is  suffering  !  And  they  who  pass  from  sin  to  sin  forever, 
must  pass  forever  from  woe  to  woe." 

"  Sin,"  said  Joost  gloomily,  "  the  wrong  choice  between 
good  and  bad,  it  is  a  mistake,  an  ignorance,  a  fatality — call 
it  what  you  will.  Call  it  all  things  but  a  conscious  self-in- 
jury. We  men  are  not  such  fools  as  that.  Never  mind, 
Agatha.  Keep  your  happiness.  You  need  not  under- 
stand." 

"  One  thing  I  understand,"  said  Agatha.  "  You  are 
wretched." 

"Wretched!"  said  Joost.  "  N"o.  Who  is  wretched? 
Who  is  happy  ?  Wretchedness  is  an  immeasurable  capability. 
I  have  not  reached  its  limits  yet.  Perhaps' only  touched  the 
surface.  No,  I  can't  say  I  am  fully  and  sufficiently  wretched. 
Oh,  Agatha,  Agatha,  life  is  an  awful  thing." 

"  And  death  more  awful  yet,"  murmured  Agatha. 


144  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

"  Is  it  ?  "  said  her  husband.    "  That  question  remains  un- 
answered still." 

He  lay  far  through  the  night  staring  into  the  darkness 
with  wide-opened  eyes.  His  wife  dropped  asleep  at  his  side. 
He  listened  to  her  breathing,  and  he,  who  had  always  re- 
fused to  let  her  share  his  sorrows,  yet  felt  unconsciously  ir- 
ritated that  she  could  sleep  thus  tranquilly  after  their  con- 
versation. It  was  very  rarely  that  he  gave  such  utterance  to 
his  thoughts.  And  he  could  not  have  told  himself  this  even- 
ing why  he  had  so  suddenly  opened  a  window,  as  it  were,  into 
his  heart  that  even  this  woman  he  loved  best  on  earth  might 
look  so  deeply  into  it.  He  had  done  so,  impelled  to  break 
through  his  reserve  by  all  the  emotions  of  the  day.  And 
she  slept.  Why  should  she  not?  What  could  women  with 
their  easier,  lighter,  smoother  natures  know  of  a  man's  life- 
struggle  against  fate  ?  He  turned  restlessly  on  his  pillow. 
"  Life  is  an  awful,  a  horrible  thing,"  he  said  to  himself 
"  But  to  bear  is  to  conquer,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

MURDER    WILL    OUT. 

Two  months  had  elapsed  since  the  events  narrated  in 
the  last  few  chapters.  The  new  year  had  come  to  life,  creep- 
ing slowly  out  of  its  infant  torpor  and  waking  up,  bit  by  bit, 
beneath  his  coverlet  of  snow.  He  had  not  yet  passed  into 
the  stage  of  blustering  boyhood  ;  that  would  come  in  time, 
when  the  winds  of  March  arose.  At  present  there  was  si- 
lence still ;  frost  and  snow,  the  strange  silence  of  winter, 
when  the  waters  lie  bound,  and  the  earth  lies  muffled,  the 
silence  as  round  a  dying  bed  or  by  a  baby's  cradle.     And 


MURDER  WILL  OUT.  145 

the  new  year  stirred  in  liis  sleep ;  and  men  said :  "  Husli ! 
he  is  waking  !  " 

A  lonely  traveler  was  coming  along  the  straight,  deso- 
late highway.  The  morning  hung  low  :  dull,  and  gray,  and 
cloudy.  There  was  no  one  in  sight  but  this  solitary  pedes- 
trian. A  country  cart  had  met  him  some  time  ago,  and 
jogged  away  into  the  misty  distance,  right  on,  down  the 
narrow  line  of  road.  He  had  eyed  it,  in  passing,  with  ex- 
aggerated interest  and  then  stumbled  on  awkwardly,  swaying 
to  and  fro  as  he  went.  He  was  a  common  man,  of  some 
thirty  years  or  thereabouts,  poorly  and  untidily  dressed  ;  and 
although  his  shambling  gait  may  have  been  habitual  to  him, 
there  was  something  in  his  swinging  progress,  as  well  as  in 
the  foolish  scrutiny  of  the  cart,  Avhich  at  once  proclaimed 
to  any  but  the  most  superficial  observer,  that  the  man  was 
the  worse  for  drink  at  this  moment — more  so — that  he  was 
probably  not  unfrequently  in  a  similar  condition. 

He  staggered  on  till  he  reached  a  little  knot  of  cottages. 
Here  he  stopped,  gazing  stupidly  from  side  to  side,  with 
that  same  look  of  senseless  interest.  Gradually  his  sunken 
eyes  seemed  to  brighten,  as  if  with  a  smile  of  recognition  : 
he  stumbled  forward,  pushed  open  a  low  door,  and  disap- 
peared into  the  interior  of  a  tiny  public-house. 

"  And  what  may  you  want,  my  good  friend  ?  "  quei-ied 
the  master  of  the  house  in  no  very  friendly  tone,  as  the  new- 
comer slouched  up  to  the  bar. 

"  A  borrel,"  was  the  surly  answer. 

"  Well,  you  can  get  that,  though  I  should  say,  by  the 
look  of  you,  that  you  had  had  quite  as  much  as  was  good 
for  you  already." 

The  other  did  not  answer  immediately.  The  publican 
carefully  measured  out  a  small  glass  of  the  commonest  gin 
and  placed  it  on  the  counter. 

His  customer  took  it  up  and,  holding  it  by  the  foot, 
began  slowly,  thoughtfully,  luxuriously,  tu  suck  iu  its  con- 


146  JOOST  AVELIXGH. 

tents.  Ilis  little  blood-shot  eyes  twinkled.  Half-wa}' 
through,  he  rested  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh  of  enjoyment. 

"I  reckon  I've  never  had  enough,  from  your  point  of 
view,"  he  said.  "  As  long  as  I've  got  half  a  dozen  cents  left 
to  pay  for  more." 

"  The  police  would  tell  you  a  different  story,"  replied 
the  publican. 

"  The  jjolice !  "  cried  the  wayfarer,  with  a  snort  of  con- 
tempt. "'There's  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between 
the  police  and  a — public — house — keeper."  He  evidently 
enjoyed  this  sentence  and  the  tone  of  contempt  he  threw 
into  the  last  words  extremely.  He  repeated  them  slowly. 
"  It's  jnst  the  employers  and  the  employed,"  he  went  on.  "  If 
there  were  no  public-house  keepers — damn  it — there  need 
be  no  police.  You're  just  the  beaters,  you  are,  when  the 
police  go  hunting."  He  spoke  in  a  slow  provincial  drawl, 
and — having  said  his  say — sucked  again  at  his  little  spirit- 
glass. 

"  Yes,"  remarked  the  publican  spitefully,  "  and  fellows 
like  you  are  the  quarry." 

"  Right  you  are,"  said  the  other,  "  and  the  quarry  was 
the  most  resj)ectable  i^arty  in  every  hunt  that  ever  I 
saw." 

The  publican  did  not  reply.  He  limped  away — he  was 
a  lame  man — to  another  part  of  the  bar.  The  fellow  was 
only  repeating — he  felt  sure  of  it — some  of  the  foolish  tem- 
perance talk  that  has  recently  come  into  fashion,  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  principle  with  the  publican  never  to  pay  any 
attention  to  temperance  people.  "  It  unsettled  your  ideas 
of  right  and  wrong,"  he  was  wont  to  say. 

The  stranger  finished  his  glass  with  a  smack  of  the 
lips,  and  pushed  it  across  the  counter.  "  Give  me  another," 
he  said. 

"  Cents  first,"  said  the  publican,  tersely. 

His  customer  winked  and  slowly  produced  from  a  rag- 


MTRDER   WILL   OUT.  147 

ged  pocket  ten  copper  cent-pieces,  which  he  spread  out  in 
a  straggling  row  before  him. 

The  publican  leisurely  refilled  the  little  glass. 

"  Always  the  same,  eh  ?  "  said  tlie  other,  winking  again. 
"  Smart  as  ever.  Not  a  day  older  than  ten  years  ago.  I 
know  you." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  asked  the  publican  with  a  keen  glance. 
"  I  haven't  that  advantage  with  regard  to  your  Honor." 

"  No  fooling  ! "  said  the  fellow  fiercely.  "  I  know  you, 
I  tell  you,  Wurmers,  you  old  thief.  Knew  you  ever  since  I 
was  a  child.  -  You  must  be  pretty  near  eighty,  you  old 
Methusaleh ! " 

"  No  calling  names !  "  cried  the  publican  more  fiercely 
still.     "  What  do  you  mean,  you  scoundrel  ?  " 

The  other  instantly  collapsed.  "  Methusaleh  was  a 
damned  respectable  party,"  he  murmured  in  a  cowed  tone. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  publican,  "  but  thieves  aren't,  what- 
ever you  may  think.  And  as  for  Bible  history,  a  drunkard 
might  remember  there  were  no  publicans  before  Noah." 

"  Well,  I  know  you  at  any  rate,  Wurmers,  I  tell  you. 
It's  not  the  first  borrel  I've  had  in  your  house,  and  the  gin's 
as  watery  as  ever." 

"  You're  drunk,"  said  Baas  Wurmers.  "  You're  drunk 
enough  to  taste  water  in  hell-fire." 

"  Drunk,  am  I V  "  screamed  the  other.  "  You  wouldn't 
have  spoken  like  that  to  me  the  last  time  I  stopped  at  your 
house.  I  was  in  a  handsome  chaise  then,  and  sitting  be- 
hind as  good  a  horse  as  ever  stepped,  I  was." 

"  You're  drunk,"  repeated  the  publican.  "  You  look 
liiio  the  kind  of  party  that  drives  a  handsome  chaise,  you 
do." 

"  I  didn't  say  I  was  driving,"  replied  the  man.  "  And 
I  didn't  say  it  was  my  chaise.  I'm  an  honest  man  I  am,  as 
honest  as  adverse  circumstances  will  permit.  As  good  as 
a  publican  any  day  ! " 


148  JOOST   AVELIXGH. 

He  struck  his  fist  violently  on  the  edge  of  the  bar. 
The  wood  was  old,  like  the  publican,  and  rotten.  It  cracked 
across  under  the  blow,  or  rather,  a  little  crack  the  master 
of  the  house  had  noticed  for  many  a  year,  spread  suddenly 
into  one  of  larger  size. 

The  man  stopped,  looking  at  his  handiwork  in  some 
alarm. 

"  That's  damage,"  said  the  publican  quietly,  "  to  be  paid 
for." 

The  delinquent  moved  awkwardly  to  the  door. 

"  No  you  don't,"  cried  the  little  old  rogue,  limping 
round  the  bar  with  wonderful  agility.  "  No  you  don't.  Pay 
first,  and  make  yourself  scarce  afterward.   Show  your  cents  !  " 

The  other  with  a  rueful  countenance,  turned  out  two 
empty  pockets. 

"  So  you  spend  your  last  copper  on  gin,  do  you  ?  "  cried 
the  little  publican,  hopping  from  one  leg  to  the  other,  as 
well  as  his  lameness  would  allow.  "  And  a  wife  and  chil- 
dren at  home  crying  for  food,  very  likely  !  Ugh — to  think 
of  it !  But  you  don't  get  away,  my  fine  fellow,  till  you've 
paid  me  for  what  you've  broke  ! " 

"  I  haven't  got  the  money,  as  you  see,"  said  the  other 
threateningly.  "And  your  rotten  old  planks  would  have 
come  to  pieces,  any  way.     So  you'll  just  let  me  pass." 

He  made  for  the  door,  but  the  old  Baas  flung  himself 
straight  at  his  whilom  customer,  and  fastened  his  skinny 
arms  round  the  man's  unsteady  legs,  holding  him  there  in  a 
tight  embrace,  and  screeching  for  help  at  the  top  of  a  shrill 
discordant  voice. 

Another  little  old  man  came  running  in — the  grocer 
from  over  the  way.  Various  women  and  children  from  the 
neighboring  half-dozen  cottages  grouped  themselves  around 
the  now  open  door. 

"  Police  !  police  !  "  screamed  the  publican.  "  They're 
robbing  me  !     Thieves  !     Help  !     Police  ! " 


MURDER   WILL    OUT.  I49 

Police  there  were  none.  But  the  half-tipsy  and  alto- 
gether broken-down  personage  thus  attacked  was  the  last 
criminal  to  offer  a  determined  resistance.  He  allowed  him- 
self to  be  secured  by  the  two  old  fellows  who  had  seized 
hold  of  him,  and  he  was  led  away  up  the  road  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Heist,  staggering  on  between  them,  with  a  lessening 
procession  of  children  bringing  up  the  rear.  During  the 
first  part  of  the  journey  old  Wurmers  was  very  eloquent 
about  his  fancied  wrongs,  but  his  indignant  expostulations 
gradually  dropped  into  an  occasional  murmur,  and  the  little 
party  reached  the  Burgomaster's  office  in  melancholy  si- 
lence. 

But  here  all  the  Baas's  indignation  overflowed  afresh. 
The  criminal  stood  by  with  an  agitated  expression  on  his 
face.  In  spite  of  his  ragged  appearance,  he  was  evidently 
not  accustomed  to  such  humiliating  contact  with  the  police, 

A  grave  functionary  in  a  dark  blue  coat — the  garde  climn- 
pHre — took  down  the  old  publican's  deposition  Avith  an  in- 
different air.  It  did  not  seem  a  very  imi^ortant  case,  he 
thought.  The  hour  was  still  too  early;  there  was  no  one  in 
the  office  yet.  He  advised  Baas  "Wurmers  to  go  back  to  his 
gin-shop  for  the  present.  The  man  was  a  vagabond.  That 
was  all. 

The  little  group  dispersed.  The  constable  sat  down  to  a 
table  covered  with  papers.  The  tramp  stood  at  the  window 
and  looked  out.  Presently  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
Arthur  van  Asveld  walked  in.  The  constable  rose ;  tlie 
tramp  turned  from  the  window  and  made  an  attempt  at  a 
military  salute. 

"  "Who  is  this,  Stronk  ?  "  said  Arthur  in  his  official  voice. 

"  A  vagabond,  Jonkcr.  Brought  in  just  now.  Drunk 
and  disorderly  in  a  pubHc-house  on  the  Hoester  Road." 

"  I  will  examine  him  till  tlie  Burgomaster  comes,  and 
make  out  the  report."  He  passed  into  an  inner  room.  He 
had  no  particular  right  to  examine  anybody,  being  only  a 


150  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

clerk,  but  he  liked  to  make  a  show  of  his  authority,  fancied 
or  real,  and,  after  all,  that  may  be  excused  as  an  innocent 
enjoyment.  The  constable  followed  him  with  the  cul- 
prit. 

"  Your  name  ?  "  said  Arthur,  authoritatively,  installing 
himself  behind  a  green  table. 

"Jan  Lorentz." 

"  Occupation  ?  " 

"  Gentleman's  servant  out  of  place." 

Van  Asveld  surveyed  the  figure  before  him.  "  Out  of 
place  for  some  time,  I  should  think  ?  "  he  said. 

"I  have  been  unfortunate.  Nobly  Eespectable  Sir.  I 
come  from  this  neighborhood.  I  have  never  been  in  such  a 
position  before.  I  was  born  and  bred  on  the  finest  estate  in 
the  country — " 

"  Silence,"  said  Arthur  with  great  dignity.  "  Place  of 
birth  ?  " 

"  The  Castle  at  Hoest,  Nobly  Respectable  Sir." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  remarked  Arthur.     "  Last  place  of  abode  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  born  on  the  estate,  where  my  father  was 
servant  before  me.  My  father  was  Mynheer  the  Baron's 
coachman.  Nobly  Respectable  Sir,  and  I  was  for  many  years 
one  of  Mynheer  the  Baron's  grooms." 

"  Silence  ! "  said  Arthur.  "  You  say  you  were  in  the 
Baron  van  Trotsem's  service.  You  will  have  to  prove  that. 
How  long  were  you  employed  at  the  Castle  ?  " 

"  I  have  my  pajiers.  Nobly  Respectable,"  began  Lorentz 
eagerly,  fumbling  in  a  breast-pocket.  "  I  was  four  years 
with  the  Baron  after  I  came  back  from  military  service.  I 
should  be  there  still,  only  the  nephew  turned  us  off.  And 
I  was  present  with  the  Baron  in  his  last  moments  too  !  It 
was  a  shame  to  do  it,  a  shameful  shame !  and  no  offense  to 
your  Honor." 

"  I  can  not  allow  you  to  speak  in  that  manner  of  a  man 
in  Mynheer  Avelingh's  position,"  interposed  Arthur  sternly. 


MURDER  WILL  OUT.  151 

"  Do  I  understand  you  to  say  you  were  with  the  Baron  van 
Trotsem  at  his  death  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  was,  Nobly  Respectable.  And  I  helped  to 
bring  him  to  ;  only  it  was  no  use,  because  he  was  dead." 

"  Silence !  Last  place  of  abode  ?  I  must  once  more 
insist  on  your  answering  questions  only." 

The  interrogation  continued ;  the  culprit  telling  the  com- 
mon tale  of  a  character  lost  never  to  be  recovered  :  drink, 
misery,  destitution,  then  more  drink  on  that  account,  but  no 
crime.  Arthur  looked  at  the  testimonial  Avelingh  had  given 
the  man  on  dismissing  him  with  the  other  servants,  it  was 
fairly  favorable  ;  undoubtedly  it  was  genuine  ;  Arthur  rec- 
ognized the  large,  somewhat  reckless  and  restless  handwrit- 
ing of  the  present  Lord  of  Trotsem  Castle. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Arthur  presently.  "  You  can  go 
back  to  your  work,  Stronk.  Let  the  man  remain  here.  I 
have  one  or  two  things  still  which  I  may  as  well  settle  be- 
fore the  Burgomaster  comes.  And  you  can  go  on  with  your 
reports  in  the  jjiean  time.  Sit  down  there,  you,  what's  your 
name.  The  Burgomaster  will  be  in  presently.  And  shut 
the  door  as  you  go  out,  Stronk ;  it  is  really  quite  cold  still." 

The  constable  passed  into  the  anteroom.  When  the 
door  had  closed  behind  his  retreating  figure,  Arthur  got  up 
and  came  round  to  the  corner  in  which  the  tramp  had  sat 
down. 

"  Remain  where  you  are,"  said  van  Asveld  condescend- 
ingly. "  And  what  is  this  story  that  you  tell,  my  good  nuui, 
about  your  having  been  present  when  the  Baron  van  Trot- 
sem died  ?  " 

"  I  was  groom,  sir,  in  the  Baron's  stables,  as  I  told  you," 
said  the  fellow,  civilly.  "  Aiul  I  was  with  him  at  the  time. 
You  may  have  heard  that  he  died  in  a  chaise  on  the  high 
road.  I  was  in  the  dickey  when  it  happened,  and  I  saw  the 
wliole  thing  done." 

"  Done  I"  cried  van  Asveld,  tlirown  completely  oil  his 


152  JOOST  AVELINGII. 

guard  by  this  unexpected  expression.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
say  that  you  saw  any  deed  done  that  night,  which  can  be 
said  to  have  any  connection  with  the  Baron  van  Trotsem's 
death  ?  " 

Jan  Lorentz  hesitated.  His  one  desire  was  to  get  away. 
He  was  frightened  at  the  idea  of  any  dealings  with  the 
police,  and  anxious  not  to  commit  himself  further.  He 
felt  just  tipsy  enough  to  know  he  must  be  careful  about  his 
words ;  the  walk  up  to  the  Office  had  sobered  him,  and  no 
one  now  who  spoke  to  him,  as  Arthur  was  doing,  would  re- 
ceive the  impression  that  he  was  much  under  the  influence 
of  drink  ;  but  for  all  that  his  brain — never  clear  at  the  best 
— felt  fuddled  and  confused. 

"  Oh,  no,  nothing,"  he  said  awkwardly.  "  I  was  in  the 
dickey,  and  through  the  glass  in  the  hood — they  had  forgot- 
ten that  little  glass — I  heard  and  saw  it  all,  you  see." 

Arthur  bent  forward  and  put  one  hand  on  the  back  of 
the  man's  chair.  "  I  have  my  reasons,"  he  said,  "  for  sus- 
pecting that  you  know  more  about  the  Baron  van  Trotsem's 
death  than  you  care  to  show.  Now  look  here ;  you've  got 
into  a  mess  with  the  police  this  morning.  You  say  it's  the 
first  time  ! " 

"  It  is.  Indeed  it  is,  Nobly  Respectable  Sir,"  cried  Lo- 
rentz. 

"  Very  well.  I  am  willing  to  believe  3'ou.  Mind  you 
get  out  of  their  clutches,  that's  all.  It's  always  a  good  deal 
easier  to  get  in." 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  Nobly  Respectable  ?  I  will  do  any- 
thing ! " 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,"  continued  Arthur,  "  and  willing 
to  help  you  out  of  this  scrape.  What's  more,  if  you  make 
it  worth  my  while,  I  may  do  a  good  deal  more  for  you, 
mind  you,  a  good  deal  more.     Do  you  understand  that  ?  " 

The  tramp  shook  his  head  with  an  assumption  of 
shrewdness.     "  I'll  do  anything,"  he  said ;  "  you  try  me,  sir." 


MURDER   WILL   OUT.  153 

*'  So  much  is  not  required  of  you,"  said  Arthur.  "  The 
Baron  van  Trotsem  was  a  near  and  dear  relation  of  mine. 
His  deatli  took  place  under  the  most  mysterious  circum- 
stances. I  have  recently  been  led  to  suspect  that  there  was 
foul  play  somewhere  in  that  business.  Now,  you  tell  me 
you  were  present  from  first  to  last  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lorentz.  "  Yes,  that  true.  I  sat  in  the 
dickey  and  saw  it  all." 

"  Very  well.  Now  mind  you,  I  shall  ask  you  some  ques- 
tions. Y'^our  own  future,  for  a  good  deal,  will  depend  upon 
how  you  answer  them.  And  first ;  What  part  did  Mynheer 
Avelingh  play  in  the  whole  matter  ?     What  did  he  do  ?  " 

"  N — nothing,"  said  the  tramp,  hesitatingly. 

"  Nothing  ! "  repeated  Arthur,  sarcastically.  "  Really  ? 
Nothing  ?  With  his  uncle  dying  at  his  side  ?  That  is 
very  extraordinary !  We  shall  hardly  get  you  out  of  prison, 
or  into  a  comfortable  means  of  earning  an  honest  livelihood, 
by  such  statements  as  that.  Nothing  !  Indeed  ?  No  fool- 
ing," he  contrnued,  suddenly  changing  his  tone  to  one  of  bitter 
earnest.  "  Look  here,  Lorentz,  I  can  well  understand,  that 
if  anything  evil  happened,  you  were  paid  to  keep  silence. 
And  you  seemed  to  have  earned  your  pay.  But  the  other 
side  don't  seemed  to  have  looked  after  you  very  satisfacto- 
rily, and  now  I'll  pay  you  to  talk.  I  think  I  shall  probably 
pay  you  better.     There ;  you  can  grasp  that !  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  man  quietly,  "  and  a  good  deal  more 
than  your  Noble  Resjoectability  perhaps  thinks.  And  what 
am  I  to  say  ?  " 

"  Answer  my  questions ;  that  is  all.  And,  to  begin  with 
the  beginning,  wliat  did  you  hear  the  Baron  say  in  the 
chaise  ?     Did  you  hear  him  say  anything  at  all  ?  " 

"  Only  now  and  then,  Nobly  Respectable.  But  at  times 
lie  sliouted  loud  enough  to  be  heard  half-a-mile  down  the 
road.  And  he  abused  his  young  nephew  most  terribly  for 
wanting  to  marry  the  Freulc  van  Hessel,  and  I  heard  him 


154  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

cry  out  a  dozen  times,  quite  plain,  that  rather  than  let  him 
do  that,  he'd  leave  all  his  money  to  a  certain  Mynheer  van 
Asveld." 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  Arthur,  looking  out  of  the  window. 
"  You  heard  him  say  that  ?  " 

"  A  dozen  times,  so  help  me  God.  And  it  was  you  he 
meant,  Jonker." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  van  Asveld.     "  You  know  me  ?  " 

"As  soon  as  I  came  in,"  replied  the  man,  "only  I 
couldn't  think  clear  at  first.  I  can't  always  think  clear. 
Haven't  I  seen  you  up  at  the  Castle  in  the  old  Baron's 
time  ?  " 

"  And  so,"  said  Arthur,  speaking  more  to  himself  than 
to  his  companion,  "  the  old  man  was  driving  across  to  the 
Notary — we  knew  that — shouting  out  all  the  way  that  he 
intended  to  alter  his  will  in  my  favor — I  don't  think  any  of 
us  were  aware  of  that  little  item ;  it  was  not  a  detail  Ave- 
lingh  would  care  to  communicate.  Why  you  scoundrel !  " 
he  cried,  suddenly  turning  on  the  frightened  tramp.  "  Talk 
of  getting  you  out  of  this  scrape.  Damn  the  old  gin-seller 
and  his  rotten  tables !  It's  worth  half-a-dozen  gin-sellers  to 
me  to  know  what  your  keeping  boxed  up  in  that  drink- 
muddled  head  of  yours !  Tell  me  what  you  saw  through 
that  God-send  of  a  little  glass  window,  and  I'll  pay  you 
twice  whatever  Avelingh  gave  you  to  hold  your  peace ! " 

"  There's  nothing  I  want  so  much  as  to  get  out  of  this 
trouble,"  said  Lorentz,  cautiously.  "  And  I'm  most  anxious 
to  oblige  you,  Jonker.  I  saw  it  all  through  the  glass,  as  I 
said ! " 

"Did  you  see  him  killed?"  cried  Arthur  excitedly, 
"  Tell  me  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  did  you  see  him  killed  ?  " 

"I  saw  the  old  Baron  fall  back,  and  then  I  saw  Mynheer 
Joost  throw  back  his  arms  and  clench — " 

"  Yes !  Yes ! "  shouted  Arthur.  "  Clench  him  by  the 
throat,  eh?     Oh,  my  God  !     What  are  you  staring  at  me 


MURDER  WILL   OUT.  I55 

like  that  for,  you  villain  ?  You  fool  to  take  ten  years  to 
come  and  tell  nie  that  you  saw  Avelingh  strangle  his  uncle, 
when  I  would  have  made  you  rich  the  day  after  the  deed, 
had  I  but  known  ! " 

The  tramp  stood  silent,  a  troubled  expression  in  his  eyes. 
Presently  it  cleared  off,  and  he  cast  an  unexpectedly  acute 
glance  at  the  excited  nobleman  opposite  him.  He  was  a 
strange  creature,  in  whose  ^brain  original  shrewdness  and 
drunken  confusion  had  been  fighting  for  the  mastery  during 
several  years.  There  could  be  little  doubt  which  would 
ultimately  conquer, 

"Never  mind  why  you  did  not  speak  sooner,"  Arthur 
continued  more  calmly,  "  the  great  point  is  that  you  have 
spoken  now.  So  much  the  better  for  you  in  every  way. 
You  heard,  therefore,  as  you  now  declare,  the  Baron  van 
Trotsem  repeatedly  express  his  resolve  to  alter  the  will  on 
that  fatal  night.  And  you  know — none  better — how  it 
came  that  he  never  lived  to  do  it.  It  is  not  chance,  my  good 
man,  but  Prcn'ideuce,  that  has  brought  you  here  this  morn- 
ing," 

Arthur  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  gazing  out  into 
the  gray  sky.  That  hour  had  brought  him  a  revelation  so 
terrible  in  its  reality  that  he  trembled  to  think  of  its  im- 
port in  spite  of  all  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  last  months. 
He  had  received  the  so-called  legacy  in  full  from  Avelingh, 
and  from  that  moment  the  conviction  had  deepened  u])on 
him,  that  the  man  who  paid  away  so  much  money,  unasked, 
must  have  his  very  good  reasons  for  doing  it.  The  doctor's 
talk  about  van  Trotsem's  death  had  also  rankled  in  his  mind, 
and,  what  with  one  thing  and  another,  Arthur  had  felt  more 
and  more  convinced  that,  somewhere  and  somehow,  a  mys- 
tery remained  unsolved  in  connection  with  Joost  Avelingh. 
And  yet  in  spite  of  this  conviction,  ho  told  himself  that  the 
actual  discovery,  as  it  now  presented  itself  to  his  mind, 
found  him  unprepared.     It  was  too  awful  to  think  of.     Ten 


153  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

years  ago,  then,  the  old  man  had  been  murdered  by  his  own 
nephew,  and  that  nephew  had  enjoyed  his  ill-gotten  gains 
ever  since.  To  do  Arthur  justice,  the  horror  of  the  thing 
was  uppermost  in  his  thoughts  at  first.  But  soon  the  other 
consideration  came  working  its  way  to  the  top.  It  was  not 
only  to  enrich  himself  but  to  rob  another  that  Joost  Ave- 
linsfh  had  committed  this  crime.  And  that  other  was  he, 
Arthur  van  Asveld.  But  for  .this  murder  he  might  now 
have  been — instead  of  a  beggar  as  he  was — one  of  the  richest 
and  most  influential  men  in  the  province !  he  might  have 
been,  in  fact,  in  Joost  Avelingh's  place.  The  conception 
was  torture  to  him.  He  turned  away  from  it,  and  found 
himself  relentlessly  recalled  to  it,  till  his  heart  hated  Joost 
as  it  had  never  hated  before. 

As  he  stood  there,  staring  moodily  at  the  clouds,  the 
choice  between  two  modes  of  action  presented  itself  to  his 
mind.  He  could  take  this  secret  to  the  guilty  man  and 
trade  upon  it.  It  would  be  worth  a  fortune  to  him.  How 
much,  it  was  impossible  to  say;  enough  undoubtedly,  to 
make  Arthur  rich  forever  after.  That  was  one  course  to 
pursue,  the  easier,  and  by  far  the  more  profitable.  Or  he 
could  put  the  whole  matter  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities. 
There  was  no  profit  to  be  got  out  of  that ;  only  endless  worry 
and  exposure  and — yes,  undoubtedly — and  revenge. 

"  Here  is  money,"  he  said,  turning  round,  and  throwing 
a  goldpiece  across  to  Jan  Lorentz.  "  Go  and  settle  with 
Baas  Wurmers — give  him  a  florin  or  two — and  then  get  a 
room  in  the  village.  We  shall  want  you,  of  course,  to  bear 
out  your  statement  that  your  saw  Mynheer  Avelingh  clench 
his  uncle  by  the  throat  and  kill  him.  But,  mind  you :  keef; 
a  quiet  tongue  in  your  head.  Not  a  Avord,  not  one  word, 
till  I  bid  you  speak.  Unless  you  obey  me  exactly,  you  may 
whistle  for  another  penny  of  mine." 

Jan  Lorentz  eyed  the  goldpiece  and  its  giver  dubiously 
for  a  moment.     Thpu  he  took  up  the  money,  bit  it,  as  if  irj 


"  WANTED."  157 

doubt  of  its  corporeal  existence,  slipped  it  into  his  pocket 
and  slapped  his  side.  It  was  many  months  since  he  had 
possessed  such  a  sum.  His  eyes  twinkled  with  delight — 
possibly  with  visions  of  unlimited  gin. 

He  shambled  to  the  door.  Arthur  followed  him  and 
called  to  the  official,  still  busy  at  his  writing  in  the  outer 
room  :  "  The  man  can  go,  Stronk,"  he  said.  "  He  is  a  re- 
spectable fellow,  evidently.  I  have  given  him  a  florin  or 
two  to  settle  with  the  old  publican.  Not  worth  sending 
up  to  the  District  Court,  surely." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  WANTED." 

"  I  WISH  Iliad  never  begun  the  whole  thing,"  said  Joost 
dejectedly.  "  It  has  brought  me  nothing  but  trouble  and 
disappointment  from  the  first." 

"  It  is  a  good  work  all  the  same,  and  a  great  one,"  an- 
swered Kees,  "  and  that's  my  opinion." 

Agatha  nodded  gratefully  to  her  brother.  They  were 
sitting  together  in  Joost's  room  again,  and  once  more  the  sub- 
ject of  their  conversation  was  the  Charity. 

It  had  not  gone  well  with  the  Charity.  In  appearance, 
undoubtedly,  things  were  prospering  as  they  should.  The 
Burgomaster,  having  once  taken  up  the  matter,  had  care- 
fully nursed  his  son-in-law's  project  through  all  the  perils 
of  a  Board  Meeting,  and  Joost  had  in  due  time  been  hon- 
ored with  a  vote  of  thanks  and  an  address. 

The  work  of  building  had  not  yet  begun,  on  account  of 
the  season,  but  active  preparations  were  already  in  progress, 
and  the  necessary  arrangements  had  been  made  with  various 


158  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

contractors.  So  far,  so  good.  But  Joost,  having  once  been 
partially  enlightened  by  his  father-iu-law,  perceived  but  too 
plainly,  how  all  these  concerned  in  the  business  were  com- 
bining to  get  as  far  as  possible,  a  maximum  of  profit  out  of 
the  concern  by  reducing  the  proposed  benefit  to  the  poor  to 
a  minimum.  When  everybody — from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest — had  received  the  share  he  claimed  as  the  price  for 
not  betraying  his  neighbor,  it  would  remain  to  be  seen  what 
was  left  for  the  old  people.  The  rules  had  been  adopted 
"  in  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the  beneficent  founder," 
and  with  some  insignificant  alterations  only,  which  latter 
however, — as  such  alterations  will — sufficed  to  entirely  sub- 
vert Joost's  intentions  on  several  important  points. 

No  wonder,  therefore,  that  Joost  considered  he  had  a 
right  to  feel  aggrieved.  He  had  attempted  an  impossible 
thing,  and  was  surprised  to  find  out  his  mistake.  Men  con- 
stantly strive  to  keep  hold  with  one  hand  of  what  they  es- 
teem it  their  duty  to  let  go  with  the  other.  He  had  been 
resolved  from  the  first  to  withdraw  entirely  from  the  man- 
agement of  the  charity-fund  ;  he  refused  all  honor  or  influ- 
ence in  connection  with  it ;  he  sincerely  desired  that  pos- 
terity might  forget  the  very  name  of  its  founder,  and  the 
measures  he  had  taken  rendered  such  a  contingency  more 
than  probable.  And  yet  he  could  not  bear  with  equanimity 
to  witness  how  the  money,  once  out  of  his  control,  was  used 
in  ways  of  which  he  must  strongly  disapprove.  He  would 
have  liked  to  see  the  whole  Charity  acting  in  entire  inde- 
pendence of  his  influence,  and  yet  in  exact  accordance  with 
his  wishes.  And  now — far  from  that  being  the  case — the 
whole  thing  was  being  used  as  a  convenient  means  of  put- 
ting money  into  pockets  already  too  full  of  ill-gotten  gains. 
He  might  well  complain. 

"  It  is  a  good  work  all  the  same,"  said  Kees.  "  You  can't 
help  the  misdoings  of  other  men.  Charity  begins  at  home 
in  this  sense  also,  that  it  blesses  the  giver  first,  as  Agath* 


"WANTED."  159 

said  just  now.  It's  quite  true,  and  you'll  get  your  blessing 
in  time." 

"  My  blessing  is  the  last  thing  I  expect  to  come  home  to 
roost,"  said  Joost,  a  little  bitterly.  "  Nor  do  I  consider  I 
have  deserved  it.  As  long  as  the  poor  old  paupers  only  get 
their  due.     What  do  you  say,  Agatha  ?  " 

"  I  can  not  help  thinking,"  replied  Agatha,  "  that  it  was 
rather  a  pity  you  ever  gave  the  whole  thing  so  entirely  out 
of  your  own  hands.  But  that's  done  now,  and  past  crying 
for.  I  am^  sure  you  would  have  managed  it  admirably, 
Joost." 

"  I  am  sure  you  would  have  done  all  things  admirably, 
Joost,"  said  her  liusband  laughing.  "  Anything  of  interest 
on  at  the  court,  Kees  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  endless  drunkards  and  dog-keepers,"  said 
Kees.  "  It's  awfully  slow  work,  a  little  district  show  like 
that.  What  I  should  like  would  be  a  real  criminal  case  to 
work  through  from  beginning  to  end,  with  a  regular  villain 
in  it.     That  -Hiust  brace  one  up,  I  should  think." 

"  Unfortunately,  regular  villains  are  scarce,"  said  Joost. 

Agatha  shook  her  finger  at  him  and  laughed. 

"  You  people  are  about  the  happiest  in  the  world,  I 
should  say,"  remarked  Kees  suddenly,  "  Far  too  much 
money ;  plenty  of  love ;  a  beautiful  place  like  this ;  all  these 
good  things,  and  nothing  to  do  but  to  enjoy  them !  And 
now,  into  the  bargain,  Joost  must  go  and  spend  his  time  in 
earning  golden  opinions  all  over  the  country,  making  him- 
self the  most  popular  man  in  it !  Here  is  the  June  election 
coming  on,  with  all  the  glory  it  is  to  bring  you  in  prospect- 
ive !  What  more  can  you  desire?  I  could  almost  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  envy  you,  Joost,  if  it  were  not  that  Agatha  is 
my  sister ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Agatha  quietly,  "  we  have  much  to  be  thank- 
ful for.     I  hope,  I  trust,  we  rememl)or  it." 

"  The  only  thing  I  shouldn't  like  would  be  the  having 


160  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

nothing  more  to  be  discontented  about  or  to  desire,"  cried  Kees 
laugliing.  "  Oh  yes,  of  course,  I  forgot,"  he  said  suddenly. 
His  florid  face  crimsoned  over.  The  good-natured  fellow 
looked  quite  distressed.  "  There  is  something  wanting,  cer- 
tainly.    Oh  well,  cheer  up ;  that  may  still  come  in  time." 

Joost's  eyes  met  his  wife's.  A  look  of  love  shot  into 
them  in  answer  to  hers.  He  felt  very  tenderly  toward  her 
that  night ;  he  could  not  have  told  himself  why.  He  got 
up  and  kissed  her  in  her  brother's  presence. 

"  There  is  room  in  house  and  heart,"  he  said,  "  and  when 
the  angel  knocks  at  the  window  we  shall  open  a  deux  hat- 
tants.  Till  then,  what  avails  it  to  gaze  forth  into  the  night  ? 
Enough  to  know  that  the  issues  of  life,  as  of  death,  are  in 
the  hand  of  God.     Come  in  !  " 

The  last  words  were  elicited  by  a  knock  at  the  door.  A 
servant  entered  with  a  note.     "  From  whom  ?  " 

"  The  messenger  could  not  say,  Mynheer." 

Joost  broke  the  seal ;  it  was  wax,  flattened  with  a  piece 
of  current  money.  His  eyes  ran  over  the  brief  contents, 
and  his  face  expressed  blank  amazement.  Then  another 
look  began  to  creep  across  it,  and  he  allowed  the  paper  to 
fall  to  the  ground.  He  bent  down  to  look  for  it ;  felt  for  it 
a  minute  or  two,  though  it  was  lying  Just  in  front  of  him, 
and  then  raised  himself  again  with  the  missive  in  one  hand. 
His  face  was  set  and  calm. 

"  You  need  not  wait,"  he  said  to  the  servant.  "  I  will 
let  the  messenger  have  the  answer  immediately.  He  turned 
to  his  bureau,  hurriedly  wrote  a  few  words  on  a  scrap  of 
paper,  ran  to  the  door,  then  stopped  as  if  a  sudden  thought 
had  struck  him.  "  Oh,  Kees,"  he  said,  "  would  you  mind 
giving  the  man  this  for  me  ?  They  are  sometimes  so  im- 
portunate, if  one  speaks  to  them  one's  self.  Awfully  good 
of  you,  if  you  would  go  down  to  him  a  minute." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Kees  starting  up.  His  brother-in-law 
pushed   him   into  the  hall.      "  Just  see  the  address  is  all 


"  WANTED."  161 

right ! "  he  called  after  him.  Kees  glanced  at  the  address, 
stopped  abruptly  under  the  hall-lamp,  tore  open  the  paper, 
and  stood  irresolute. 

Joost  had  shut  the  room-door  and  come  back  to  his  wife. 
Once  more  he  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  But  before  he 
resumed  his  seat  a  fresh  thought  seemed  to  strike  him. 
"  Oh,  I  ought  to  have  told  Kees,"  he  cried,  once  more  turn- 
ing to  the  door,  "  that  he  should  " — he  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him. 

He  found  his  brother-in-law  still  standing  under  the 
hall-lamp,  the  open  paper  in  his  hand.  "  Come  into  the 
dining-room,"  he  cried  hurriedly,  "  as  I  told  you  to  do." 
He  threw  open  the  door  as  he  spoke.  A  servant  was  clear- 
ing away  the  dinner-things.  "  Tell  the  man  down-stairs 
there  is  no  answer,"  he  said.  "  Stop.  Give  him  that."  He 
threw  a  small  coin  across  the  table. 

"  What  does  all  this  mystery  mean  ? "  queried  Kees. 
He  still  held  his  scrap  of  paper  in  one  hand.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  hjin,  and  inside  were  written  the  words :  "  Wait 
for  me  in  the  dining-room,  Kees." 

"  Read  this,"  said  Joost,  holding  out  the  letter  the  mes- 
senger had  brought  him.  On  half  a  sheet  of  paper  these 
sentences  were  traced  without  heading,  signature,  date  or 
any  other  mark  of  identity  : 

"  An  accusation  of  the  very  gravest  nature  has  been 
lodged  against  you  this  morning.  If  your  conscience  con- 
demns you,  cross  tlie  frontier  immediately.  You  have  an 
hour's  start  and  will  not  be  pursued  too  fast.  There  is  no 
extradition-treaty  with  Uruguay." 

Kees  stared  blankly  at  Joost ;  then  he  read  the  contents 
of  the  note  over  again ;  and  then  he  once  more  lifted 
amazed  eyes  to  liis  brother-in-law's  face. 

"  A  hoax,"  he  said  at  last.     "  Who  can  have  done  it  ?  " 

At  this  moment  there  came  another  knock  at  the  door. 
Joost  started  as  if  the  blood-hounds  of  the  law  were  already 


IQ2  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

ou  Ills  track.    It  was  only  the  servant,  returning  to  continue 
his  work. 

"  "Wait  till  you  are  called,"  cried  his  master  in  a  passion. 
He  flunsr  to  the  door  and  locked  it. 

"  A  hoax,"  repeated  Kees. 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Joost.  He  took  up  a  dessert 
knife  from  the  table  and  began  playing  nervously  with  it. 

"  Not  ?  "  cried  Kees.  "  Why,  surely  you  don't  mean  to 
say  it's  earnest  ?  Joost !  And  what  would  the  accusation 
be  about,  pray  ?     You'll  tell  me  you  know  that,  next." 

"  No,"  rei^lied  Joost.     "  I  don't  say  that." 

"You  think  it's  meant  seriously,  and  yet  haven't  an 
inklins:  what  it's  all  about." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  either." 

"Let's  be  practical,  Joost;  the  time  they  allow  you  is 
short  enough.    Have  you  any  idea  what  this  paper  means  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Joost — "  Unless — "  he  paused. 

"  Unless  what  ?  " 

"  If  your  conscience  condemns  you,"  repeated  Joost.  "  A 
vasrue  term.     Whose  conscience  condemns  him  not  ?  " 

"Not  every  man's  conscience  condemns  him  of  grave 
crimes  against  the  law  of  the  land,"  said  Kees  with  ready 
good  sense.  "  Nor  does  yours,  of  course.  So  there's  a  mis- 
take or  slander,  or  something.  Except  it  be  a  hoax.  Let 
me  look  at  the  paper  again." 

He  took  it  to  a  shaded  lamp  on  the  sideboard,  and 
studied  it  carefully.  As  it  happened,  he  Avas  a  bit  of  an  ex- 
pert in  handwriting,  having  amused  himself  with  graphology 
at  college.     His  ruddy  face  grew  suddenly  white. 

"As  I  live,"  he  cried,  "the  hand  is — yes,  though  if's 
evidently  feigned — I  would  swear  to  it  being  Doverel's  him- 
self." 

"  Doverel's  !  "  cried  Joost.  "  The  public  prosecutor's ! 
Surely,  he  has  no  reason  to  shield  me." 

"  It  is  Doverel,"  said  Kees  in  an  agitated  voice.     "  I  see 


"  WANTED."  163 

his  handwriting  daily  at  the  conrt.  He  has  changed  it  for 
this  note.  It  is  he,  all  the  same.  Joost — Good  Heavens — 
Joost.  If  you  can  understand  anything  of  this,  Joost, 
you've  not  fifty  minutes  to  get  out  of  the  house  ! " 

"  And  why  should  Doverel  warn  me  ?  "  said  Joost. 

Van  Hessel,  more  accustomed  to  such  matters,  could 
have  given  several  reasons,  had  he  been  calm  enough  to  do 
so.  His  hand  trembled.  "  Joost,"  he  stammered.  "  My 
dear  fellow,  forgive  me.  Of  course  you  are  innocent,  what- 
ever the  charge  may  be.  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  saying. 
Of  course  you  will  stay  quietly  here.     It  is  absurd." 

"  I  shall  stay,"  said  Joost. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  after  that.  Joost  con- 
tinued to  play  with  the  knife  he  held  in  his  hand.  He 
threw  it  up  several  times  and  caught  it  by  the  handle.  His 
brother-in-law  stood  staring  at  the  terrible  missive,  too 
amazed  and  stupefied  to  give  advice. 

Presently  Joost  spoke.  "Xo  extradition  treaty  with 
Uruguay,"  he-eaid.  "  Could  I  get  away  yet,  I  wonder,  if  I 
wished  to  ?  " 

"  You  could,"  replied  Kees,  waking  up,  as  it  were,  from 
a  dream.  "  If  you  leave  the  house  immediately,  the  police 
will  not  pursue  you  just  yet.  That  is  what  the  letter  means. 
Doverel  has  his  own  reasons  for  doing  a  man  like  you  a  serv- 
ice. But  in  an  hour  or  so — half-an-hour  now — they  may 
be  here.     Sooner,  if  the  letter  has  been  delayed." 

Avelingh  walked  up  and  down  the  great  room  with  rapid 
strides.  There  were  drops  of  cold  sweat  on  his  forehead. 
He  stopped  opposite  liis  brother-in-law. 

"  I  shall  stay,"  he  said  again. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Kees.  "  It  will  all  be  cleared  up  in  a 
day  or  two.  It's  so  extraordinary ;  I  don't  know  what  to 
say  or  think.  You  can't  imagine  what  they  may  be  aiming 
at  ?    You  really  can't  now  ?  " 

Joost  threw  back  his  hair  from  his  brow.      "  No,"  he 

K 


164  JOOST   AVELIXGH. 

said.  "  What  crossed  my  brain  just  now  was  too  absurd, 
too  unlikely.  No,  Kees,  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  I  have 
no  idea  what  the  charge  can  be." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Kees,  heartily.  "  I  mean,  I  knew 
it.  Only,  of  course,  one  is  so  utterly  amazed  and  confound- 
ed. I  can  only  say  again :  you  must  forgive  me,  Joost." 
The  two  men  shook  hands. 

Another  knock  came  at  the  door.  They  shook  hands 
again,  and  then  Kees  went  to  open  it.  The  servants  stam- 
mered excuses.  Two  gentlemen  were  asking  for  his  master. 
He  had  asked  Mevrouw,  and  Mevrouw  had  said  he  must 
knock. 

"  I  will  go  to  them,"  said  Kees. 

"  No,"  cried  Joost,  standing  at  the  far  end  of  the  room. 
"  Show  them  in  here." 

He  had  been  playing  with  the  silver  knife.  A  moment 
ago,  however,  he  had  laid  it  down  and  taken  up  a  large  steel 
one  in  its  stead.  Playing  thus,  half  carelessly,  he  had  once 
or  twice  made  a  rapid  pass  with  the  shining  blade  near  his 
throat.  Onl  /  a  feint  or  two  at  the  best.  Who  shall  say 
what  was  passing  in  his  mind  ? 

A  moment  later  two  strangers  entered,  grave-looking 
men  in  dark  clothes.  "Mynheer  Avelingh?"  said  the 
elder  interrogatively. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Joost. 

The  first  speaker  hesitated,  and  cast  a  glance  at  Kees. 

"  My  brother-in-law.  Mynheer  van  Hessel,  Clerk  of  the 
District  Court,"  said  Joost. 

The  stranger  looked  relieved,  but  he  hesitated  still. 

"  This  gentleman  may  hear  anything  you  wish  to  say," 
continued  Joost. 

"  Anything  ?  "  queried  the  other  with  a  marked  accentua- 
tion of  the  word. 

"  Anything  and  everything,"  said  Joost. 

"  It  is  an  unpleasant  task  that  brings  us  here,  Mynhee'' 


"WANTED."  165 

Avelingh,"  continued  the  ofBcer,  "but  we  are  only  carrying 
out  orders.  I  very  muck  regret  that  those  orders  should 
have  been  necessary." 

"  Do  your  duty,"  said  Joost  briefly. 

The  police  officer  seemed  to  be  unfavorably  impressed 
by  the  fact  that  his  arrival  did  not  occasion  more  surprise. 
It  was  as  if  he  had  been  exj)ected.  And  yet  such  visits  as 
this  in  a  gentleman's  mansion  were  surely  unusual,  to  say 
the  least.  He  looked  from  one  gentleman  to  the  other  and 
hastily  concluded  that  Joost  must  be  guilty.  Policemen  are 
almost  always  dominated  by  one  hasty  impression,  and  allow 
themselves  to  be  actuated  by  that  impression  alone.  For- 
tunately, their  experience  insures  a  fair  chance  of  its  being 
a  correct  one  on  the  whole. 

"  My  duty,"  said  the  man,  roughly,  "  is  to  arrest  you,  in 
the  King's  name."  He  showed  his  badge  of  office  as  he 
spoke. 

"  And  what,"  asked  Joost,  "  is  the  charge  against  me  ?  " 

"  That,"  ^plied  the  officer,  "  you  will  hear  later  on. 
Put  down  that  knife,  if  you  please,  Mynheer."  Joost  flung 
the  knife  he  was  holding  to  the  table,  with  a  laugh  so  fierce 
that  his  three  companions  involuntarily  started  back. 

"  What  is  the  charge  ?  "  said  Kees.  "  You  heard  this 
gentleman  mention  my  quality.  I  am  Clerk  of  the  District 
Court.     What  is  the  charge  ?  "  ■ 

"  If  you  wish  it,"  answered  the  officer,  in  a  sulky  man- 
ner, "  I  suppose  there  is  no  especial  reason  for  my  not  tell- 
ing you.  The  charge  is  an  exceptionally  grave  one — it's 
just  murder.  That's  all.  Tlicre's  an  accusation  lodged 
against  Joost  Avelingh  for  the  murder  of  his  Uncle,  Dirk 
van  Trotsem — Dirk,  Baron  van  Trotsem,  it  is,  I  believe." 

Joost  began  to  tremble  violently  over  his  whole  frame. 
He  felt  that  all  three  men  were  watching  him  intently,  but 
he  strove  in  vain  to  steady  himself.  Tliere  was  a  moment's 
terrible  silence;  then,  controlling  liimself  as  best  he  could, 


166  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

the  accused  man  hissed  out :  "  Are  you  flesh  and  blood,  or 

devils?" 

And  a  few  seconds  later  he  added,  in  a  still  lower  gasp : 
"Or  angels?" 

In  spite  of  the  sick  terror  at  his  heart,  Kees  wondered  at 
the  words.  He  involuntarily  recalled  his  father's  frequent 
assertion  that  "  Joost  was  so  melodramatic,"  and  he  would 
have  smiled,  if  there  had  been  room  in  his  thoughts  for  any- 
thing approaching  a  smile,  as  his  eyes  turned  to  the  com- 
monplace-looking men  before  him. 

Neither  of  the  officers  took  any  notice  of  Joost's  excla- 
mation. 

"  I  must  request  you  to  follow  me,"  said  the  elder  one, 
"  we  have  a  carriage  in  waiting  down-stairs." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost.  "  I  understand.  I  presume  I  may 
take  leave  of  my  wife  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     But  we  must  be  back  in  town  to-night." 

"  I  shall  not  require  long,"  replied  Joost.  He  turned  to 
his  brother-in-law.  "  Good-by,  Kees,"  he  said.  "  I  do  not 
know  what  you  may  think,  but  I  can  assure  you  by  all  that 
I  hold  sacred  that  such  an  accusation  as  this  never  came 
into  my  head.  When  I  hesitated  just  now,  it  was  because  a 
wild  suspicion  crossed  my  brain  that  some  dealings  in  con- 
nection with  that  wretched  Charity — but  there ;  I  knew  the 
idea  to  be  absurd  at  once.  Such  things  are  not  punished. 
Good-by,  Kees.  Tell  your  people  at  home,  and — and  " — 
his  voice  faltered — "  take  care  of  Agatha.  I  swear  to  you  I 
never  dreamed  of  the  possibility  of  this ;  I  am  as  utterly 
amazed  and  bewildered  as  you  can  be." 

Kees  Hessel  wrung  his  brother-in-law's  hand.  The  tears 
stood  in  the  honest  fellow's  eyes.  "  I  don't  doubt  it,"  he 
said.  "  It  will  all  be  set  right  in  a  day  or  two.  Some  one's 
gone  mad  somewhere,  evidently.  That's  the  solution.  And 
till  we  find  it  out,  I'll  fight  for  your  innocence  against  the 
world."     He  ran  after  Joost  as  the  latter  was  passing  out  of 


"WANTED."  167 

the  room.  "  Take  plenty  of  money  with  you,"  he  whispered. 
"  The  more  the  better.  Money  buys  pretty  well  everything, 
nowadays." 

Joost  crossed  over  to  the  study  where  Agatha  was  sitting 
quietly  at  her  work,  the  tea-things  w^aiting  at  her  side,  the 
kettle  singing  on  its  little  peat-stove.  He  was  about  to  shut 
the  door  behind  him,  but  one  of  the  officers  interposed.  He 
turned  fiercely  on  the  intruder.  "  Excuse  me,  no,"  said  the 
man,  "  the  charge  is  too  serious  a  one.  We  can  not  let  you 
out  of  our  sight." 

Agatha  looked  up  in  mild  surprise.  "  Dearest,"  said 
Joost,  leading  her  to  the  other  side  of  the  room,  "  something 
very  extraordinary,  very  sad,  has  happened.  Can  you  bear 
trouble  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Agatha,  "  with  you.     "What  is  it  Joost?  " 

"And  disgrace?" 

She  hesitated.  "  Yes,"  she  said  again.  "  Because  it 
would  be  unmerited.     But,  oh,  darling,  what  is  it?  " 

"  Those  two  men  there  are  policemen.  They  have  come 
here  with  a  charge  against  me.  Some  one  has  accused  me — 
of  an  awful  thing — of — of — the  murder  of  my  old  uncle, 
Agatha." 

"  Murder  ! "  she  repeated,  vaguely.  For  a  moment  or 
two  the  word  seemed  to  make  no  impression  on  her.  She 
clung  to  him  with  an  anxious,  questioning  look  upon  her 
face. 

"  Yes,  dearest.  How  the  charge  is  made,  by  whom — 
how  such  a  thing  is  possible,  I  am  striving  in  vain  to  un- 
derstand. It  is  so.  I  must  go  with  them  to  the  town  to- 
night, Agatha.     Now ! " 

"  Go  with  them?     Oh,  Joost !  "     She  burst  into  tears. 

He  pressed  her  to  him  in  silence.  "  God  will  take  care 
of  you,  my  own  darling,"  he  murmured,  at  last.  "  God  help 
me.  You  must  pray  for  me  all  the  time.  Oh,  my  dearest, 
that  I  slioiild  bring  such  grief  upon  you  !" 


168  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

She  lifted  up  her  head  from  his  breast  and  dashed  back 
the  tears  angrily.  "  You  will  come  back  to-morrow,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  ridiculous.  They  will  see  you  are  innocent  to- 
morrow." 

The  officer  took  a  step  forward,  and  coughed  softly. 
They  had  forgotten  him. 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Joost,  turning  haughtily.  He  dis- 
engaged himself  from  his  wife's  embrace  and  came  forward. 

"  He  is  innocent !  "  cried  Agatha,  almost  defiantly.  "  He 
is  innocent !     He  is  innocent ! " 

Joost  paused  for  a  moment  in  the  door- way. 

"  God  only  knows,"  he  said  to  himself.  In  that  moment 
his  heart,  in  its  forlornness,  went  out  to  his  wife  in  love  and 
admiration  as  it  had  never  done  before. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

"  GIVE   A    DOG    A    BAD    NAME." 

The  country  was  ringing  with  the  news.  A  man  of 
Joost  Avelingh's  wealth  and  position  arrested  for  murder  ! 
The  thing  was  unheard  of.  And  although  his  name  only 
appeared  in  initials  in  the  papers,  according  to  the  queer 
continental  custom,  yet  everybody  knew — on  the  day  after 
the  arrest — who  was  meant  by  "  an  influential  inhabitant 
of  Heist,  J.  A."  The  provincial  paper,  indeed,  suppressed 
the  news  altogether  during  the  first  few  days,  from  a  laud- 
able, if  foolish,  desire  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  the 
higher  classes  in  the  presence  of  the  common  people,  and 
one  or  two  disreputable  society-journals  sent  interviewers 
to  Agatha  to  ask  her  how  much  she  would  pay  to  have 
the  item  kept  out  of  their  budget  (the  interviewers  were 


"GIVE  A   DOG    A   BAD   NAME."  169 

not  received,  be  it  said  by  the  way) ;  but  the  independ- 
ent radical  dailies  published  leaders  —  which  gave  much 
offense  in  all  Government  circles,  as  they  were  intended  to 
(Jo — urging  the  authorities  to  do  their  duty,  and  darkly 
hinting  at  precedents  which  led  them  to  infer  that  the 
criminal  would  get  off  scott  free. 

Certainly  no  one  could  complain  that  the  prisoner,  once 
arrested,  was  treated  with  exceptional  lenity.  No  distinc- 
tion at  all  was  made  between  him  and  a  common  criminal, 
even  there  where  it  might  be  argued  that  similar  treatment 
resulted  in  actual  inequality.  At  least,  such  small  favors  as 
he  could  succeed  in  obtaining  were  acquired  in  the  strictest 
secret  from  the  prison  warders  at  perfectly  incredible  prices, 
and  their  existence  was  vigorously  denied  in  the  semi-official 
newspapers. 

He  was  locked  up  in  a  prison-cell  and  left  to  himself. 
When  there,  he  received  an  intimation  that  he  might  select 
an  advocate  to  act  for  him,  but  he  was  only  allowed  to  see 
that  personage  at  rare  intervals,  and  meanwhile  the  secret 
inquiry  into  the  case — the  "  instruction  "  as  they  call  it — 
proceeded.  Dutch  criminal  procedure  is  very  different  from 
English;  it  may  be  generally  described — in  spite  of  nu- 
merous deviations — as  having  been  modeled  very  closely 
after  the  French.  This  book  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
question  which  system  is  preferable,  but  it  must  be  stated  in 
explanation  of  wliat  follows,  that  the  foreign  investigation 
starts  from  the  diametrically  opposite  point  of  view,  as  com- 
pared with  British  ideas,  that  a  prisoner,  if  there  once  be 
sufficient  ground  to  arrest  him,  may  safely  be  presumed  to 
be  guilty  till  you  have  proved  he  is  innocent,  and  that,  there- 
fore, the  one  great  object  always  to  be  kept  in  view  is  the 
criminal's  confession,  to  obtain  which  all  efforts  of  the  pre- 
liminary examiners  co-operate.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Dutch  have  abolished  all  juries.  A  Court  of  several  judges 
— varying  in  munber,  according  to  the  gravity  of  the  case — 


170  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

decide  on  all  questions  whatsoever.  So  much  it  seemed 
necessary  to  explain. 

The  examining  judge,  then,  was  using  all  his  eSorts  to 
extract  a  confession  from  Joost  Avelingh.  This  was  the 
more  desirable  because  of  the  great  scarcity  of  evidence 
against  the  accused.  But  all  threats  and  stratagems  proved 
equally  vain.  The  prisoner,  confronted  with  the  chief 
witness  against  him,  heard  the  charge  with  evident  surprise. 
He  was  accused  of  having  seized  his  uncle  by  the  throat  and 
having  strangled  the  old  man  by  tightening  the  comforter 
he  wore.  The  evidence  of  the  doctor  and  the  notary  cor- 
roborated this  view,  as  appeared  still  more  fully  at  the  trial. 
But  the  prisoner  absolutely  and  consistently  denied  it. 
They  had  to  bring  him  back  to  his  cell  in  despair. 

In  the  mean  time,  Kees  Hessel  worked  for  him  with  un- 
flagging energy.  Some  little  privileges  were  obtained,  as 
has  been  said ;  "  it  need  not  be  inquired  too  particularly  by 
what  means,"  cried  the  radical  press.  He  was  allowed  to 
see  his  wife  once  or  twice ;  but  the  interviews — agonizingly 
painful  as  they  were — could  bring  neither  of  them  much 
satisfaction.  During  the  month  or  two  of  the  weary  -pve- 
liminary  inquiry  his  health  broke  down  visibly.  The 
wretched  food,  the  want  of  exercise,  the  anxiety,  the  harrow- 
ing examinations ;  all  these  combined  to  do  him  injury. 

"  The  prisoner,"  said  the  papers,  "  insolently  persists  in 
refusing  to  confess  his  guilt." 

The  opinion  of  the  country  went  dead  against  Joost. 
For  much  of  tliat  ojnnion,  of  course,  the  newspapers  were 
responsible,  and  these — in  so  far  as  they  were  written  for 
men  of  the  lower  classes — attacked,  in  the  offender,  the  gen- 
tleman of  position.  There  was  a  nervous  dread  everywhere 
that  he  must  escape,  as  so  many  other  men  had  done  before 
him,  or  that,  even  if  he  were  condemned,  he  would  be  im- 
mediately pardoned.  Herein,  however,  public  opinion  went 
wrong.     It  forgot,  or  ignored,  tlie  fact  that  Joost,  though  a 


"GIVE  A   DOG  A  BAD  NAME."  171 

gentleman  and  a  man  of  great  wealth,  had  no  patrons  or 
protectors  among  the  influential  members  of  his  own  class. 
And  he  had  not.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  generally  disliked 
by  the  very  men  who  could  best  have  helped  him.  Many  of 
them  had  hated  him  for  his  hard-working,  honest  efforts  to 
"curry  favor"  with  the  poor,  for  his  great  wealth  and  so- 
called  good  luck,  for  the  talents  and  ambitions  and  noble 
desires,  which  made  him  so  unlike  one  of  them.  They  re- 
joiced at  his  fall,  and  now  kicked  him  when  down. 

"  That's  what  comes  of  being  cleverer  than  your  neigh- 
bors," said  Beau  Liederlen.  "  I  always  foretold  he  would 
come  to  grief.  When  a  man  in  our  circle  has  too  much 
brains,  he  makes  a  bad  use  of  them,  say  I." 

Kees  Ilessel,  therefore,  had  a  bad  time  of  it.  He  went 
from  house  to  house,  and  from  man  to  man.  He  was  voted 
an  insufferable  bore  in  the  Club  smoking-room,  but  a  right 
good  fellow  all  the  same. 

"  Talk  of  something  else,  Kees,"  people  said  to  him. 
"  We'll  believ.*  the  man  is  innocent,  if  you'll  talk  of  some- 
thing else."  In  the  female  drawing-rooms  matters  were 
made  still  more  difficult  for  this  special  pleader.  When  he 
started  the  subject,  he  was  met  by  an  icy  stare,  and  pause, 
and  then  that  most  cruel  crusher  of  all,  a  sudden  change  in 
the  conversation.  They  thought  it  bad  taste  in  him  to  al- 
lude to  the  matter  at  all,  the  man  being  his  sister's  husband. 
There  was  not  a  woman  of  her  own  class,  except  her  mother, 
who  could  unbend  sufficiently  to  show  Agatha  any  sympathy. 

Only  the  little  dressmakers  and  milliners,  the  little  serv- 
ant-girls, and  the  "unfortunates"  spoke  and  thought  pity- 
ingly of  the  woman  left  deserted  and  despised  in  her  great 
mansion.  They  stopped  before  the  shop-windows  where  the 
"  portrait  of  the  murderer  "  hung,  and  they  pitied  him  too 
a  little,  "  because  he  looked  so  melancholy,  and  had  such 
lovely  dark  eyes." 

The  van  Ilessel  family  had  cnouLrli  need  of  comfort  and 


172  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

sympathy,  though  they  did  not  get  it.  The  Burgomaster 
seemed  hopelessly  crushed  by  this  misfortune,  the  greatest 
imaginable  in  his  eyes  :  disgrace.  He  grew  visibly  thinner, 
his  large  limbs  lessened  under  his  garments  till  the  latter 
flapped  loosely  about  his  frame.  His  carriage  lost  all  its  an- 
cient strut,  and  a  look  of  unmistakable  worry  settled  on  his 
face.  He  would  have  avoided  the  Club,  had  not  his  son  in- 
sisted on  his  appearing  there. 

"  We  are  innocent,"  said  Kees,  "  and  we  intend  to  show 
it  in  a  few  weeks." 

It  was  Mevrouw  who  at  this  moment  showed  strength  of 
mind  for  the  whole  family.  She  calmly  accepted  the  posi- 
tion in  which  she  found  herself,  neither  flaunting  her  pride 
in  the  face  of  a  righteously  indignant  world,  nor  abating 
one  jot  of  it  to  please  those  who  were  eager  for  her  humilia- 
tion. No  allusion  to  the  matter  crossed  her  lips,  except 
wlien  she  once  or  twice — just  at  the  right  moment — feel- 
ingly mentioned,  "  our  great  sorrow  "  in  passing,  or  on  one 
special  occasion  haughtily  vindicated  the  innocence  of  "  one 
whom  all  his  relations  love  and  admire."  She  had  never 
cared  much  for  Joost,  there  was  too  little  sympathy  between 
their  characters ;  nor  had  she  ever  advocated  his  marriage 
with  her  daughter,  in  spite  of  his  wealth,  but  she  stuck  to 
him  now  in  her  own  cold  imperious  manner.  And  to  Aga- 
tha her  heart  went  out  in  love  and  tenderness  indescribable. 
She  had  hurried  up  to  the  Castle  immediately,  and  all 
through  those  two  terrible  months  of  anxious  waiting  she 
stayed  with  its  sorrowful  mistress. 

Bettekoo's  lover  broke  off  the  match  on  account  of  the 
undesirable  connection.  So  Bettekoo  was  sent  for  to  the 
Castle  also,  and  the  three  women  wept  together.  And  yet, 
despite  their  common  misery  and  humiliation,  there  was 
not  one  person  in  the  whole  family,  after  the  first  fright- 
ened amazement  was  over,  who  believed  in  Joost's  inno- 
cence except   Agatha   and    Kees.     Verrooy   made   himself 


"GIVE  A  DOG   A  BAD   NAME."  173 

agreeable  to  his  wife  about  "  the  murderer  "  on  every  possi- 
ble occasion,  and  by  asking  his  children  how  they  liked  hav- 
ing a  convict  for  an  uncle. 

And  xlgatha  ?  Her  servants  liked  her  ;  they  had  every 
reason  to  do  so.  They  were  bound  to  her  by  many  ties  of 
kindness  in  the  past.  They  tried  to  show  her  their  awk- 
ward sympathy  as  best  they  could.  The  laborers  on  the 
estate,  the  poor  in  the  neighboring  cottages;  there  were 
tender  hearts  enough,  eager  to  weep  with  her  and  for  her, 
and  many  a  little  token  of  affection  found  its  way  to  her 
heart.  But  none  ever  spoke  of  Joost.  "  Murder ! "  It 
was  such  an  awful  thing,  and  all  believed  him  guilty.  She 
felt  instinctively  that  it  was  so.  And  what  then  did  sym- 
pathy, however  well-meaning,  avail  her  ?  It  was  not  recog- 
nition of  her  sorrow  she  wanted,  but  assertion  of  his  inno- 
cence. His  innocence  against  the  world !  She  did  not 
leave  the  grounds,  except  to  go  to  church,  during  all  those 
weary  weeks.  It  was  shameless  of  her  to  appear  there,  said 
the  ladies  ancT  gentlemen.  But  what  cared  she,  though  her 
most  intimate  friends  looked  away  as  she  passed  down  the 
aisle,  and  though  not  one  hand  was  stretched  out  to  lier  in 
the  entry  ? 

The  little  girl  at  the  turnpike  came  running  to  her  with 
her  accustomed  smile  and  courtesy,  and  the  child's  mother 
burst  out  crying  as  she  threw  open  the  bar.  And  Agatha 
returned  to  the  Castle,  with  her  mother  at  her  side,  and 
spent  a  quiet  afternoon  alone  in  the  beautiful  gardens  of 
her  desolate  home. 

And  God  was  very  merciful  to  her.  For  He  tempers 
the  wind. 


174:  JOOST  AVELINGIl. 

CHAPTER  XXL 

JAN    LOEENTZ. 

Three  gentlemen  were  leisurely  walking  down  the  vil- 
lage-street on  their  way  home  from  the  Club  late  one  even- 
ing in  April.  They  were  Liederlen,  Verrooy,  and  Doctor 
Kern. 

The  village  of  Heist,  though  still  called  a  village,  is 
larger  than  many  a  country-town.  It  is  surrounded  by  a 
number  of  villas  and  small  gentlemen's  seats,  and  the  in- 
habitants of  these  villas  have  built  themselves  a  very  com- 
fortable edifice  at  one  end  of  the  principal  street,  where 
they  can  play  whist  in  the  afternoon,  and  vingt  et  un  in  the 
evening.  Sometimes,  when  the  gambling  runs  high  at 
night,  as  it  is  very  apt  to  do,  the  Club-lamp  will  twinkle  far 
down  the  deserted  street  till  the  sun  mingles  his  fresh  rays 
with  its  sickly  light. 

It  might  burn  on  into  the  small  hours  on  this  occasion 
for  all  the  three  gentlemen  knew  or  cared.  They  had  left 
the  smoking-room  at  10  o'clock,  as  was  their  habit.  Ver- 
rooy did  not  gamble ;  his  wife  would  soon  have  stopped 
that.  Liederlen  played  cards  all  day,  but  for  the  sake  of 
the  game.  He  would  have  played  all  night,  only  he  could 
find  nobody  to  sit  down  with  him,  except  for  high  stakes 
after  ten.  As  for  the  doctor  he  did  not  know  the  difference 
between  diamonds  and  clubs. 

"  I  have  always  contended  he  was  guilty,"  remarked 
Liederlen,  as  they  strolled  down  the  quiet  street.  Of  course 
they  were  talking  of  the  great  case ;  who  ever  talked  of  any- 
thing else  in  Holland  that  April  ?  "I  have  always  con- 
tended he  was  guilty,  and  I  shall  say  so  in  spite  of  Kees 
Hessel's  bluster.  They  ought  to  lock  that  fellow  up  too, 
till  the  whole  thing  is  over.  Here  he  has  been  boring  us 
again  to-niglit.     And,  after  all,  the  whole  flood  of  his  elo- 


JAN  LORENTZ.  I75 

quence  proves  uothiug,  actually  nothing,  except  that  he 
means  well ;  and  that  did  not  require  proving  of  Kees 
Hessel." 

"  Of  course  he  is  guilty,"  said  Verrooy.  "  And  really, 
that  wretched  groom  might  have  spoken  up  ten  years  sooner 
and  saved  us  all  the  disgrace.  It  will  cost  me  my  chance 
for  the  Burgomastership  of  Zielen,  and  I  really  thought  I 
had  succeeded  this  time." 

"  His  poor  wife,"  put  in  the  doctor,  pulling  away  at  his 
short  pipe  with  a  thoughtful  air. 

"  Nonsense,  doctor,"  cried  Liederlen.  "  Wives  must  take 
their  chances,  and,  I  dare  say  she  knew  all  about  it.  She's 
had  her  share  of  the  spoil,  at  any  rate.  Why,  they  won't 
be  able  to  touch  the  money,  as  it  is.  I  never  pity  a  woman 
with  good  health  and  fifty  thousand  *  a-year.  Such  a  woman 
was  never  unhappy  yet ;  she  couldn't  be." 

"  I  am  not  sure  about  the  guilt,"  began  the  doctor 
timidly.  He  was  a  nervous,  thinking  man,  who  did  not 
like  to  enuneiate  combative  opinions. 

"  Oh,  come  !  come  !  "  cried  both  his  companions. 

"  I  was  present  at  the  preliminary  proceedings,  you 
see,"  the  doctor  went  on  quickly.  "  Of  course  that's  all  a 
secret,  and  I  am  a  principal  witness,  unfortunately  enough ; 
I  would  have  given  my  best  skeleton  to  keep  out  of  the 
matter,  still  I  may  say  this  much  that  if  I  were  a  judge  and 
a  medical  man  in  one,  I  should  not  attach  too  much  im- 
portance to  the  testimony  of  the  witness  who's  supposed  to 
prove  the  whole  thing." 

"  Jan  Lorentz  !  "  cried  the  others. 

"  Yes,  Jan  Lorentz." 

"  AVhy,  van  Asveld  says  it's  convicting,"  remarked 
Liederlen.  "  lie  says  that  when  ho  first  heard  the  fellow 
describe  what  he'd  seen,  he  felt  as  if  he  were  actually  pres- 

*  About  £4,000. 


176  JOOST   AVELIXGH. 

ent.  The  story  is  most  exact,  it  aj^pears,  and  the  Notary 
bears  it  out." 

"  Van  Asveld  is  free  to  have  his  impressions  as  I  am  to 
have  mine,"  said  the  doctor.  "  And  my  impression  is, 
though  I  cannot  prove  it  to  be  the  correct  one,  that  man 
Lorentz  is  both  a  feeble-minded  and  a  foul-minded  person- 
age. He  is  very  shrewd  in  one  way,  as  such  persons  often 
are,  and  the  Juge  d'instruction  evidently  believes  thorougly 
in  him.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  the  judges  will, 
when  the  actual  trial  comes  on.  I  should  say  he  drinks, 
though  this  is  between  you  and  me,  for  I've  never  seen  him 
in  any  way  the  worse  for  liquor  during  the  examinations. 
But,  still  I  should  say  that  he  drinks.  I  should  even  say 
that  he  has  probably  had  delirium  tremens  once  or  twice. 
I  wish  I  could  examine  him  closer." 

"  Even  if  he  drinks,"  said  Verrooy,  "  that  proves  nothing 
as  to  his  veracity.  He  wasn't  drunk  when  he  sat  in  that 
dickey  ten  years  ago." 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  "Whatever  his  faculties 
may  have  been,"  he  said,  "  they're  not  to  be  trusted  now. 
He  had  a  good  brain  once,  and  that  makes  the  struggle  all 
the  more  intricate.  I  wish  the  judges  would  order  an  inquiry 
into  his  mental  condition  and  put  in  some  man  thoroughly 
capable  of  judging.  I  wish  they'd  let  me  have  a  look  at 
him.  But  there  he  stands,  quite  calm  and  collected,  and 
gives  his  evidence,  and  it  all  goes  down  like  melted  butter." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Verrooy.     "  What  more  can  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him  an  hour  or  two  after  he's 
given  his  evidence,"  said  the  doctor  quietly.  "  I  should 
like  to  know  what  his  brain  was  like  when  the  tension  was 

past." 

"  As  for  drinking  a  glass  too  much  now  and  then," 
remarked  Liederlen.  "  Why,  the  charge  might  be  brought 
against  many  veracious  people — van  Asveld  himself,  for  in- 
stance." 


JAN  LORENTZ.  177 

The  doctor  looked  over  his  shoulder  with  a  quick,  half- 
frightened  movement.  "  Take  care,"  he  said,  "  van  Asveld 
was  to  come  after  us.  He  only  stopped  to  finish  his  quarrel 
with  van  Hessel." 

"  He  does  drink  too  much  at  times ;  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said 
Liederlen. 

"  He  may,"  said  Doctor  Kern.  "  I  have  no  opportunities 
of  judging." 

"  Joost  Avelingh  did  not  drink,  not  he,"  sneered  Verrooy. 
"  All  proper  and  respectable,  and  too  good  to  play  whist,  and 
so  on.  Only  a  little  murder  now  aiid  then,  just  to  show  you 
he  had  foibles  like  other  men." 

A  quick  step  was  heard  behind  them.  "  Quand  on  parle 
du  diable  on  en  voit  la  queue,''''  said  Liederlen.  "  Here 
van  Asveld  comes." 

"  I  can't  imagine  how  he  can  walk  so  quickly,  with  the 
weight  he  has  to  carry,"  remarked  the  doctor. 

"  Weight !  I  should  think  so,"  quoth  Liederlen.  "  Nigh 
on  a  hundrecLkilogrammes,  and  the  house  of  van  Asveld  and 
all  its  fortunes  into  the  bargain !  Well,  Asveld,  who  had 
the  last  word  ?  Ten  to  one  you  can't  guess  what  we're  talk- 
ing about ! " 

"  Rira  bien  qui  rira  le  dernier,''''  said  Arthur,  as  he  came 
up.  "  Van  Hessel  will  sing  a  different  tune  next  week.  I 
hear  the  trial  comes  on  next  Tuesday," 

"  So  much  the  better,"  grumbled  Verrooy.  "  We  shall 
have  it  over." 

"  So  much  the  better,  undoubtedly.  We  shall  hear  the 
truth  at  last,"  said  Liederlen.  "  I  have  been  thirsting  for 
authentic  news  all  these  weeks.  They  ought  to  make  the 
preliminary  inquiries  public.  Why,  the  whole  country  is 
clamoring  to  know  particulars,  and  nothing  has  transpired. 
I  envy  you,  doctor;  you  ungrateful  man  for  complain- 
ing ! " 

The  doctor  only  replied  with  an  emphatic  "  Humph." 


178  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  I  hear  seats  are  at  a  premium,"  remarked  Arthur. 
"  As  you  say,  the  whole  country  is  in  a  ferment  for  news. 
That  comes  of  all  the  preliminary  secrecy." 

"  It  is  said  one  or  two  ladies  applied  for  cards,"  put  in 
Verrooy,  "  but  we  don't  quite  see  the  desirability  of  admit- 
ting them,  Just  yet,  over  here." 

"  It's  a  pity,  I  think,"  cried  Arthur.  "  I  should  have  had 
his  wife  and  mother  up  to  see  the  show.  To  see  the  scoun- 
drel standing  there  with  his  smooth  dark  face  and  lying 
away  his  soul.  It  will  be  a  sight  worth  gazing  on.  They 
have  not  got  him  to  confess  as  yet.  It's  my  opinion  they 
never  will.     The  pious,  silky  villain." 

"  You  are  very  certain  of  his  guilt,"  remarked  the 
doctor. 

"  Certain !  I  would  stake  my  name  on  it !  Who  can 
doubt  it !  I  could  find  it  in  what  is  left  in  me  of  a  heart  to 
weep  for  the  poor  old  gentleman." 

"  Your  sof  t-heartedness  does  you  credit,  sir,"  said  the  doc- 
tor gravely. 

"  Yes,  damn  it ;  your  soft-heartedness  does  you  credit," 
sneered  Verrooy.  "  And  your  uncle — cousin — what  was  it? 
— ought  to  have  taken  it  into  account  in  his  will,  van  As- 
veld." 

The  all-absorbing  interest  of  their  conversation  had  led 
these  gentlemen  when  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  street, 
to  turn  and  once  more  saunter  up  it.  As  they  passed  under 
the  light  of  one  of  the  few  widely  scattered  lamps,  a  man, 
who  had  been  fumbling  at  a  street  door,  shrank  back  into 
the  shade. 

"  Who's  out  at  this  hour  ?  "  laughed  Liederlen.  "  Go  to 
bed !    Go  to  bed  !    Can't  be  respectable." 

The  doctor  was  nearest  to  the  individual  in  question. 
"As  I  live,  it's  Jan  Lorentz,"  he  said,  stopping  short. 
"  Good  night,  Lorentz." 

"  Goo' — nigh',"  said  a  thick,  unsteady  voice  in  answer. 


JAN   LORENTZ.  I79 

"  I  thouglit  so,"  said  tlie  doctor  quietly.     "  Drunk  !  " 

"  Drunk  !  "  cried  van  Asveld,  with  an  oath.  "  I  don't 
believe  it !     Not  a  bit  of  it !  " 

"  You  need  not,"  said  the  doctor. 

They  stood  in  a  half  circle  round  the  wretched  creature 
cowering  against  the  door-post.  He  had  visibly  started  at 
the  sound  of  van  Asveld's  voice,  and  seemed  very  much  ter- 
rified. He  stammered  something  about  "  Come  again  next 
— hie — morning.     Too  late  now.     Goo'  nigh'." 

"  Here,  I  must  talk  to  this  fellow  "  said  Arthur,  in  an 
agitated  voice.  "  Don't  wait  for  me  !  Au  revoir  !  See  you 
to-morrow." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  examined  this  subject,"  began  the 
doctor. 

"  Oh,  examine  him  some  other  day,"  interrupted  Arthur. 
"Do,  please,  leave  me  alone  with  him.  Do,  my  good  Doc- 
tor, go  home  before  it  gets  so  very  late." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Verrooy.  "  Don't  let's  loaf  about  here. 
It's  quite  time^we  were  back.  Come  along,  Doctor ;  you  go 
my  way." 

The  doctor,  always  unwilling  to  oppose,  allowed  himself 
to  be  led  away,  and  Arthur  found  himself  alone  with  the 
tipsy  man,  face  to  face  in  the  dark,  desolate  street. 

"  You  are  drunk,  you  scoundrel,"  he  said  fiercely. 

Jan  Lorentz  could  not  summon  up  impudence  enough  to 
deny  the  charge,  but  he  seemed  inclined  to  resent  the  form 
in  which  it  was  made.  He  scowled  at  his  accuser  in  a  very 
ugly  manner. 

"  You  swore  to  me,"  said  van  Asveld,  violently,  "  that 
you  would  keep  steady  till  this  business  was  over.  After 
that  you  may  drink  up  the  whole  devil  dissolved  for  aught 
I  care.  But  you  swore  you  would  not  touch  a  drop  duriug 
these  few  weeks.     You  know  you  did." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  drunkard,  "  so  I  did.  And  so  T 
will.     I  haven't  had  a  drop  till  this  evening.     And   T  Avon't 


180  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

again.  It  was  only  just  once,  so  help  me — ;  and  my  tliroat 
was  just  simply  burned  up." 

"  Damn  you,"  said  Arthur,  angrily,  as  he  turned  on  his 
heel. 

"  Damn  me ! "  muttered  the  drunken  man  to  himself 
with  another  tipsy  "  hie."  "  It  looks  very  like  it  at  present, 
but  it  won't  be  your  doing,  my  fine  master ;  no,  nor  your 
preventing,  but  just  my  own  choosing ;  worse  luck." 

He  began  fumbling  at  the  door  again,  making  vain  efforts 
to  open  it  with  what  was  evidently  too  small  a  key.  He 
might  have  continued  this  labor  indefinitely,  but  suddenly 
the  door  was  thrown  open  from  the  inside,  and  a  flood  of 
light,  and  a  flood  of  shrill  feminine  eloquence,  poured  out 
upon  the  bewildered  being.  His  landlady  stood  before  him, 
iu  undress  and  a  furious  temper. 

"  And  this  is  how  you  come  scraping  and  scratching  at 
the  door  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  is  it  ?  "  cried  the  lady, 
"  as  if  you  hadn't  a  key  to  let  yourself  in  by,  every  bit  like  a 
dog  rather  than  a  rational  being,  and  talking  and  quarreling 
outside  in  the  dead  hours  of  silence,  waking  up  honest  peo- 
ple that  were  in  bed  and  asleep,  as  you  ought  to  be.  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  Mynheer  Lorentz,  though 
I  say  it,  who  never  was."  The  good  lady  having  wound  up 
her  oration  with  this  rather  enigmatical  finale,  opened  the 
door  -s^dde,  and  stood  on  one  side,  candle  in  hand,  to  let  her 
lodger  pass. 

He  stammered  a  few  words  of  excuse,  and  lurched  up 
against  her  in  his  anxiety  to  keep  on  the  further  side.  She 
saw  how  matters  stood  at  a  glance,  and  immediately,  con- 
trary to  his  expectation,  the  springs  of  her  eloquence 
dried  up. 

"  Aha,"  she  merely  snapped,  in  a  tone  pregnant  of  vague 
terrors  in  the  future.  "  Drunk  !  we  shall  see !  So  thafs  the 
kind  of  lodger  the  Jonker  van  Asveld  recommends  to  people 
as  thoroughly  respectable.     We  shall  see." 


JAN   LORENTZ.  X81 

"  It's  no  use  talking  to  a  drunken  man,"  this  wise  woman 
used  to  tell  lier  cronies.  "  For  it  only  hardens  them.  And 
so  you  go  and  spill  all  your  powder  before  you  had  need  to 
nse  it  at  all,  you  see.  Now,  take  my  advice  and  wait  till 
next  morning,  when  all  the  drink  has  gone  out  of  them,  and 
then,  the  lower  they  happen  to  bo,  the  hotter  you  give  it 
them.  Once  you  get  them  under  your  thumb  that  way, 
and  you  can  keep  them  there  a  month — with  management. 
With  good  management,  of  course.  Don't  I  know.  Didn't 
I  have  seventeen  years  of  it  with  my  good  husband ;  God 
rest  him?  And  wasn't  he  as  sorry  the  last  time  he  got 
drunk — and  he  so  weak,  he  spilled  half  of  it,  but  he  managed 
to  get  drunk  all  the  same— as  the  first?  Almost,  at  any 
rate ;  and  that's  saying  a  good  deal,  I  can  tell  you,  neighbor. 
You  look  at  other  families,  and  find  out  if  it  isn't.  But  you 
bully  them  when  they're  in  liquor,  and  the  liquor  gives  them 
impudence  to  fight  it  out." 

"  It  was  a  pity  of  that  good  stuff  your  husband  spilt," 
said  the  neighbor.     "  Was  it  gin  now,  Juffrouw  Kaas  ?  " 

Jan  Lorentz  stumbled  uj)  the  stairs  in  the  dark,  with  one 
or  two  muttered  imprecations.  He  was  furious  with  van 
Asveld,  whose  overbearing  manner  was  beginning  to  gall 
him  excessively.  He  was  still  more  furious  with  himself 
for  having  sinned  again  after  several  weeks  of  abstention. 

"  You  don't  get  a  candle  from  me,"  his  landlady  called 
after  him,  "  and  you  may  just  go  to  bed  as  best  you  can." 

He  closed  his  door  with  a  grin  and  a  scowl,  and  sat  down 
heavily  on  a  chair  by  the  curtainless  window.  Jan  Lorentz 
was  not  a  bad  man,  but  he  was  a  culpably  weak  one.  He 
knew  that,  and  the  thought,  while  it  caused  him  real  sorrow, 
broke  by  its  very  existence  such  strength  as  he  had. 

He  had  been  respectable  enough  once,  when  he  was  a 
groom  in  the  Baron  van  Trotsem's  stables.  The  son  of  that 
gentleman's  coachman,  bi'ight,  brisk,  and  good-looking,  he 
had  even  been  reckoned  among  tlie  elite  of  the  vouncr  men 


1S2  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

of  the  neighborhood.  He  had  flirted,  more  or  less  harm- 
lessly, in  various  quarters,  and  had  so  early  acquired  the 
reputation,  easily  acquired  among  that  simple  peasantry,  of 
being  a  little  wild.  Then  had  come,  a  year  or  so  before  the 
Baron's  death,  the  great  ruling  influence  of  his  life,  as  it 
proved,  when  he  fell  in  love,  heart  and  soul,  with  pretty 
blue-eyed  Dientje,  a  maid  in  the  van  Hessel  family.  But 
Dientje,  who  was  thoroughly  respectable,  and  a  bit  of  a 
prude,  with  her  pink  print  dress  and  stiff,  frilled  cap,  refused 
to  have  anything  to  say  to  a  young  man  with  "  antecedents." 
A  year  of  hopeless  courting  followed,  and  then  the  death  of 
the  Baron  intervened,  and  Jan,  turned  off  with  the  other 
servants,  drifted  away  to  Amsterdam  in  search  of  work.  He 
got  a  fresh  place  there,  and,  Dientje  proving  inexorable,  he 
fell  into  bad  company  and,  unable  to  resist  a  coachman's 
constant  temptations,  began  at  intervals  to  take  a  glass  too 
much.  The  rest  was  sufficiently  easy — the  devil  takes  care 
to  keep  his  roads  in  excellent  order ;  the  best  surveyor  in  all 
creation  is  this  old  gentleman  who  limps  himself — and 
Dientje,  now  maid  to  Mevrouw  Avelingh,  when  she  some- 
times heard  sad  stories  of  "  that  drunken  fellow,  Lorentz," 
would  plume  herself  upon  her  own  discrimination  and  re- 
ceive with  a  smooth  little  smile  the  congratulations  of  her 
circle  of  middle-aged  spinsters,  all  as  respectable,  as  primly 
dressed,  and  as  stiffly  capped  as  herself. 

Jan  Lorentz  had  a  grudge  against  Avelingh,  an  exag- 
gerated grudge,  which  increased  the  more  he  was  dissatis- 
fied with  himself,  for  we  all  like  to  have  our  scapegoats.  He 
was  angry  with  the  young  master  for  having  turned  off  his 
uncle's  servants,  in  spite  of  the  generous  manner  in  which  it 
liad  been  done,  and  he  attributed  to  this  measure  his  removal 
to  Amsterdam,  his  separation  from  Dientje,  and  all  his  sub- 
sequent misfortunes.  The  more  he  felt  those  misfortunes, 
and  the  more  he  regretted  them,  the  more  eagerly  he  turned 
from  awkward  self-reproach  to  abuse  of  Joosfc    Avelingh. 


JAN  LORENTZ.  183 

He  had  almost  begun  to  believe,  that,  but  for  Joost  Ave- 
lingh,  Jan  Loreutz  would  have  been  a  happy  and  an  hon- 
orable man. 

He  sat  himself  down,  half  tipsy,  half  sobered,  and  stared 
out  of  the  window.  He  did  not  like  the  midnight  sky,  it 
gave  him  vague  impressions  of  heaven,  and  darkness,  and 
the  life  beyond.  The  room  in  which  he  sat  was  a  poor 
one,  but  neat  and  clean.  On  a  deal  chest  of  drawers,  among 
two  or  three  untidy  articles  he  had  thrown  down  there,  stood 
a  small  portrait  ,in  a  common  faded  plush  frame,  the  portrait 
of  the  woman  he  had  loved,  the  woman  he  loved  still.  It 
was  a  coarse  photograph,  done  at  some  country  fair,  all  pale 
now  and  brown  and  stained.  It  had  never  been  like  her ;  it 
was  least  of  all  like  her  now.  It  was  altogether  an  ugly, 
vulgar  object,  and  no  one  who  looked  at  it  would  have  said 
that  it  represented  a  pretty  woman.  But  it  was  the  one 
thing  in  all  the  wide  world  toward  which  this  poor  creature's 
soul  still  felt  tenderly.  The  woman  up  yonder  at  the  castle, 
living  on  aM  changing  slowly  with  the  impressions  of  ten 
long  years,  had  passed  out  of  his  life ;  he  had  never  seen 
her ;  he  could  not  tell  what  she  was  like,  by  this  time,  in 
mind  or  body;  but  the  photograph,  individualized  into  a 
separate  existence,  remained  with  him  still.  It  was  the 
photograph  he  loved  and  cherished  :  the  symbol  of  that  pure, 
pretty,  eighteen  year  old  maiden,  who  had  said  "■  No  "  to  liim 
so  demurely  under  her  father's  apple  tree  in  the  time  when 
life  was  young.  And  it  was  from  that  love  that  perhaps 
some  day,  if  ever,  in  the  far  future,  the  regeneration  of  this 
man's  whole  being  might  go  forth.     He  sighed  heavily. 

"  Is  it  worth  while  ?"  he  asked  himself.  The  question 
had  kept  coming  up  in  his  mind  again  and  again  during  the 
last  few  weeks,  and  each  time  he  had  answered  "  Yes," 
though  Avith  varying  emphasis.  "  It  means  money,"  he  said, 
"  plenty  of  money.  And  plenty  of  money  means  respecta- 
bility.    And  if  I'm  once  again  respectable,  I  shall  turn  over 


184  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

a  new  leaf,  for  I'm  an  honest  fellow  still  in  spite  of  adverse 
circumstances,  and,  perhaps,  some  day  I  may  go  up  to  the 
Castle,  and  if  I  find  Dientje  still  to  my  taste,  well,  she  might 
have  changed  her  mind,  and  who  knows  ?  But  I  must  have 
money  first,  to  come  with.  No  use  going  to  the  girls  with- 
out that.     And  I  sha'n't  drink  any  more." 

It  was  the  great  dream  of  his  life,  intermittent,  but  con- 
stantly recurring,  "  to  he  respectable  once  again."  And  no 
poor  wretch  in  whom  that  aspiration  lives  can  be  utterly 
lost. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE   TRIAL. 

The  Court  was  crowded.  Any  one  could  have  foreseen 
that  this  would  have  been  the  case  ;  and  accordingly  ticket- 
holders  had  begun  to  form  up  in  line  almost  an  hour  before 
the  doors  were  opened.  As  for  the  ticketless,  their  chance 
seemed  of  the  smallest.  Yet  there  was  a  great,  gaping,  chat- 
tering crowd  all  down  the  wide  road  and  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  canal.  Policemen  in  glittering  helmets  were 
keeping  a  path  clear  for  the  carriages  that  drove  rapidly  up. 
The  crowd  chaffed  the  occupants,  and,  if  it  could  be  done 
while  a  constable's  back  was  turned,  some  wretched  little 
street-boy  would  even  try  to  raise  a  laugh  by  pitching  a 
paper  pellet  or  a  handful  of  dirt  into  an  oj)en  landau.  For 
the  street  boys,  tiresome  everywhere,  are — it  must  be  ad- 
mitted with  regret — almost  ungovernable  in  the  larger  cities 
of  Holland.  Drunken  with  the  national  \i'ine  of  freedom 
which  has  always  been  poured  out  so  generously  in  this  fa- 
vored little  corner  of  Europe,  and  unable  as  yet  to  moderate 
their  transports,  school  children  and  hobble-de-hoys  are 
often  a  lamentable  trouble  to  the  quiet,  respectable  people 


THE  TRIAL.  185 

who  love  to  go  their  way  in  peace.  And  there  is  no  doubt 
that  at  some  not  very  remote  period  the  question  of  the  lib- 
erty and  license  of  the  streets  will  have  to  occupy  the  atten- 
tion of  the  wise  men  who  seek  to  govern  Holland  without 
ruling  it ;  or  better  still,  perhaps,  of  those  home  legislators 
who,  by  the  fiats  of  public  opinion,  could  do  so  much  to 
settle  the  question,  and  perhaiDS  might  even  now  willingly 
do  so,  if  nineteenth  century  philanthrojDy  had  not  decreed 
so  remorselessly  that  the  boxing  even  of  the  wickedest, 
thievingest  street  boy's  ears  by  any  but  the  constituted  au- 
thority is  such"  a"  severely  punishable  offense.  The  human 
ear — even  of  the  humblest  of  God's  creatures — is  a  far  more 
sacred  thing  than  any  rich  man's  apples,  or  white  pants,  or 
silk  carriage  cushions.  And  it  must  be  protected  accord- 
ingly— while  the  apples  and  carriage-cushions  are  not.  For 
it  is  difficttlt  for  the  constituted  authority  to  catch  a  street 
boy.  Philanthropy  is  the  same  all  tlie  world  over.  And  it 
is  a  very  beautiful  thing.  But  the  street  boy  is  pretty  much 
the  same  alsq^    And  he  is  a  nuisance. 

This,  however,  is  a  digression  hardly  warranted  by  the 
fact  that  the  ragamuffins  of  a  certain  large  Dutch  town  were 
amusing  themselves  in  their  peculiar  manner  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  great  murder  trial.  After  all,  pellets  are  harm- 
less things — happy  the  man  who  got  nothing  worse  !  But 
there  were  other  things  to  occupy  the  thoughts  of  the  crowd. 
The  trial  itself  was  naturally  on  all  lips,  and  in  all  ears. 
The  opinion  of  great  and  small,  rich  and  poor,  was  unani- 
mously against  the  accused.  The  mere  fact  of  his  being  a 
gentleman  proved  his  guilt  to  the  crowd.  No  gentleman  was 
ever  accused  of  crimes  unless  he  had  really  committed  them, 
and  the  pity  which  one  might  naturally  mete  out  to  a  poor 
man  and  brother,  victim  of  plutocratic  legislation,  was 
changed  to  execration  and  righteous  vindictiveness  now  the 
criminal  was  himself  a  plutocrat.  It  had  got  known,  besides — 
and  the  fact  liad  been  widely  disseminated  by  all  tlic  papers 


186  JOOST  AVELINGII. 

from  an  early  stage — that  the  murdered  man  had  been  the 
murderer's  protector  and  benefactor  from  his  infancy  up- 
ward ;  that  he  had  fed,  clothed,  nurtured,  and  educated 
him,  and  had  made  him  his  heir.  As  a  return  for  this  life- 
long benevolence  the  nephew  had  killed  his  uncle  so  as  the 
sooner  to  possess  himself  of  his  inheritance,  and  he  had  in 
reality  enjoyed  that  inheritance  during  ten  long,  guilty 
years  !  When  the  melancholy  prison-van  made  its  appear- 
ance, yells  of  hate  and  fury  rent  the  air.  Agatha  heard 
them,  waiting  with  a  sick  yet  prayerful  heart  in  a  hired 
room  close  by  the  "  Palais  de  Justice  ; "  the  prisoner  heard 
them  as  he  sat  in  his  little,  carefully  locked  box.  They 
drove  him  under  a  covered  archway  and  shut  the  gates. 
There  were  hundreds  of  men  in  that  surging,  ragged  crowd 
eager  to  strike  him  to  the  ground,  hundreds  of  women  who, 
if  once  he  lay  there,  would  not  have  hesitated  to  trample  on 
his  heart.  The  case  had  somehow  got  hold  of  the  pojDular 
imagination,  and  public  feeling  ran  high. 

Inside  the  building  the  sentiment  against  the  accused, 
though  more  refined  in  its  expression,  was  not  a  whit  less 
strong.  The  great  hall  was  filled  to  overflowing  with  men 
belonging  to  the  upper  classes ;  all  the  seats  reserved  for 
persons  of  distinction  were  occupied  by  those  who  had  a  full 
right  to  be  so  designated ;  the  lawyers  were  passing  into  their 
particular  quarters;  the  representatives  of  the  press  were 
quarreling  for  a  seat.  There  was  not  standing-room  by  the 
time  the  Judges  filed  in,  trying  to  look  as  important  as  pos- 
sible in  their  long  black  robes.  The  case,  being  one  of  so 
grave  a  nature,  had  come  on  before  the  Chief  Court  of  the 
Province.  The  hall  was  wide  and  lofty,  full  of  light,  and 
even  cheerful.  The  judges  sat  in  armchairs  behind  a  green 
table  on  a  dais  at  one  end  of  it,  with  a  great  statue  of  Themis 
above  them  holding  her  scales  awry.  To  their  right  was 
the  public  prosecutor,  also  in  his  robes,  and  opposite  him 
the  clerk  of  the  Court.     Immediately  below  the  dais  stood 


THE  TRIAL.  1S7 

the  bench  for  tlie  prisoner,  who  had  his  counsel  near  him, 
though  out  of  reach  of  his  hand  or  voice.  Behind  the  pris- 
oner, again,  sat  the  witnesses. 

The  judges  being  seated,  the  preliminary  rustle  died 
away  in  a  few  nervous  coughs,  a  laugh  here  and  there,  the 
fall  of  an  umbrella,  and  then  a  gradually  deepening  silence. 
In  the  hush  the  voice  of  the  President  was  heard,  low  at 
first,  declaring  the  sitting  opened.  The  inevitable  formali- 
ties were  gone  through  amid  evident  impatience,  and  a 
whisper  arose  every  now  and  then  above  the  monotonous 
voice  of  the  clerk.  Then  the  case  was  called.  Two  thou- 
sand pairs  of  eyes  were  directed  to  a  little  door  near  the 
dais ;  and  several  policemen  brought  in  Joost  Avelingh. 

He  stopped  for  one  instant  in  the  doorway,  and  cast  a 
swift  glance  over  the  sea  of  faces  turned  toward  him.  And 
in  that  brief  moment  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  taken 
in  the  expression  of  each  individual  countenance.  He  had 
seen  his  father-in-law  looking  utterly  dejected ;  he  had  met 
Kees  van  Hessd's  anxious,  wistful  gaze ;  and  braved  Arthur 
van  Asveld's  arrogant,  confident,  and  contemptuous  one. 
He  had  faced  hundreds  of  wrathful,  scornful  eyes  on  every 
side,  and  felt  as  if  torrents  of  hatred  were  pouring  down 
on  him  from  all  directions.  The  feeling  had  left  him  calm, 
almost  indifferent.  He  was  accustomed  to  the  dislike  of  his 
own  class.  One  thing  indeed  had  moved  him  strongly,  it 
was  that  yell  of  hatred  outside  the  walls.  For  a  man  with 
Joost  Avelingh's  love  of  admiration  and  need  of  affection 
that  experience  was  one  of  more  than  endurable  bitterness. 

The  prisoner  passed  to  his  bench,  bowed  to  the  Presi- 
dent, who  took  no  notice  of  the  salutation,  and  sat  down. 
All  through  the  proceeding  his  demeanor  was,  of  course, 
most  closely  watched.  It  did  not  give  satisfaction.  Once  or 
twice  he  shrank  back,  as  if  in  pain,  and  people  said  he  was 
cowardly;  once  or  twice  he  looked  calmly  round,  and  they 
comiilained  he  was   impudent.     For  the  most  i>:irt  ho  sat 


188  JOOST  AVELIXGH. 

immovable,  with  liis  arms  crossed  over  liis  breast,  and  his 
dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  presiding  judge. 

The  act  of  accusation,  as  they  call  it,  was  read,  a  lengthy 
document,  quite  a  small  book  in  itself,  setting  forth  the 
whole  story  of  the  crime  as  it  presented  itself  to  the  mind 
of  the  public  prosecutor — the  Advocate-General,  to  give  him 
his  proper  title.  This  document — really  nothing  more  than 
a  written  brief  against  the  prisoner — attacked  him  with  vio- 
lence from  the  very  first,  and  ascribed  to  him,  besides  the 
crime  noAV  actually  under  consideration,  as  many  more  as  it 
could  conveniently  insinuate.  The  man  thus  accused  ap- 
peared to  listen  with  great  composure.  The  audience,  how- 
ever, at  least  the  non-legal  part  of  it,  got  impatient,  and  be- 
gan to  whisper  in  friendly  ears  that  the  same  thing  might 
have  been  said  with  half  the  words  in  a  quarter  of  the  time. 
But  the  slow,  monotonous  drone  went  on  as  if  it  would 
never  come  to  a  conclusion.  It  did  so,  nevertheless,  unex- 
pectedly ;  the  President  nodded ;  somebody  coughed ;  and 
soon  after  the  examination  of  the  prisoner  began. 

In  Holland,  as  in  France,  there  is  no  examining  or  cross- 
examining  of  witnesses  by  the  bar,  the  general  impression 
being  that  the  lawyers'  object  on  such  occasions  is  too  often 
not  to  guide  a  witness  into  telling  the  truth,  but  to  confuse 
him  into  telling  a  lie.  The  presiding  judge  examines,  and 
he  alone.  It  is  true  that  the  public  prosecutor  and  the  pris- 
oner's counsel  may  suggest  the  putting  of  some  particular 
question,  but  young  barristers  are  loth  to  avail  themselves  of 
that  privilege,  for  the  President  is  very  apt  to  take  such  sug- 
gestions amiss,  as  implying  a  lack  of  ability  in  him  with 
regard  to  the  conducting  of  the  case.  Both  systems  appear 
to  have  their  advantages,  and  their  disadvantages. 

The  prisoner  stood  up  to  be  examined.  As  he  did  so, 
even  his  enemies — and  who  but  Kecs  Hessel  was  his  friend 
in  that  large  concourse? — even  his  enemies  acknowledged 
the  diimitv  of  his  bearing.     He  might  be  nervous  afterward 


THE  TRIAL.  189 

under  the  statements  of  some  of  those  called  to  give  evi- 
dence against  him,  but  in  his  own  answers  he  was  firm  and 
collected.  The  attitude  he  assumed  was  insolent,  said  the 
lawyers,  for  he  admitted  everything  but  the  crime  itself. 
Only  the  evening  before  a  last  desperate  attempt  had  been 
made  to  force  a  confession  from  him.  It  had  failed,  and  the 
failure  was  resented  accordingly. 

"  Your  name  ?  "  said  the  President. 

"  Joost  Avelingh." 

"  Your  profession  ?  " 

"I  have  none'."' 

"  You  have  no  title  of  any  kind  ?  No  university  degree  ?  " 

«  Xone." 

"  Xo  occupation  ? "  The  President,  a  red-faced  little 
man,  leered  at  the  prisoner  over  his  round  spectacles.  Joost 
smiled — a  bitter  little  smile. 

*'  I  am  a  member  of  the  Council  of  Management  of  some 
ten  or  twelve  charitable  societies,"  he  said,  "  and  on  the 
Board  of  some  kalf -dozen  Industrial  Companies ;  that  is  all." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  President,  "  I  know.  You  have  found 
charity  a  convenient  cloak  to  hide  a  multitude  of  sins." 

Joost's  soul  flinched,  if  that  expression  be  permissible. 
The  outer  frame  stood  calm,  erect  and  stately;  the  eyes 
were  gazing  at  the  statue  of  Justice  above  the  little  Presi- 
dent's head. 

The  usual  questions  followed,  and  then  a  closer  inquiry 
began  into  the  circumstances  of  the  crime  itself. 

"  You  admit,"  said  tlie  President,  "  that  the  Baron  van 
Trotsem,  your  uncle,  took  you  into  his  house  when  you 
were  a  destitute  orphan  of  five,  and  that  from  that  moment 
until  the  day  of  his  death,  he  fed,  clothed,  and  educated 
you,  and  that  finally  he  appointed  you  liis  heir?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost. 

"  Did  you  know  during  the  Baron's  lifetime  that  his  will 
bad  been  drawn  up  in  your  favor?" 


190  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  I  had  reasons  to  susjject  it  from  frequent  allusions  which 
ho  made." 

"  Had  you,  in  spite  of  all  you  owed  him,  any  cause — in 
your  own  opinion — to  dislike  the  Baron  van  Trotsem,  or  to 
feel  a  grudge  against  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost  in  a  distinct  voice.  "  We  did  not  get 
on  well  together,  and  he  made  me  very  unhappy."  He  re- 
fused to  see  the  anxious  signs  his  advocate  was  covertly 
making  him.     The  poor  man  desisted  in  despair. 

"  That  is  vague,"  said  the  President,  "  and  unsatisfac- 
tory. Were  there  any  special  grievances  which  you  could 
bring  forward  ?  " 

"  My  uncle,"  replied  the  accused,  "  had  resisted  my 
wishes  whenever  he  could  do  so.  He  had  refused  to  allow 
me  to  take  up  a  legal  career,  and  had  insisted  on  my  study- 
ing medicine  without  any  adequate  reason.  He  had  for- 
bidden me  to  marry  the  lady  who  is  at  present  my  wife, 
also  without  in  any  way  explaining  his  action  in  that 
matter." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  President.  People  looked  at  each  other. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  President's  j^ortentous  exclamation  was 
echoed  from  every  lip. 

"  Many  a  man,"  continued  Joost's  examiner,  "  has  been 
compelled — by  his  very  aifection — to  resist  youthful  de- 
sires, to  choose  another  profession  for  a  son  or  ward,  to  deny 
his  consent  to  an  early  marriage.  In  such  cases  the  '  rea- 
sons '  usually  appear  '  inadequate '  to  the  sufferer.  Are  these 
all  the  offenses  you  charge  your  uncle  with  ?  " 

"  I  charge  him  with  nothing,"  rej^lied  the  prisoner,  "  I 
answer  your  questions  as  best  I  can." 

"  And  you  admit  that  you  hated  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Joost  softly. 

Once  more  quick  glances  were  interchanged.  The  coun- 
sel for  the  defense  cast  up  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  folded  his 
lean  hands  over  his  black  robe. 


THE  TRIAL.  191 

"  Ou  the  evening  of  your  uncle's  death  you  had  had 
words  with  him?" 

"  I  had." 

"  And  you  knew,  when  he  ordered  his  carriage,  that  he 
was  about  to  drive  to  the  Notary  to  alter  his  will  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  You  knew  you  were  bringing  him  there,  and  that  it 
was  his  intention  to  disinherit  you  in  case  you  married  the 
Freule  van  Hessel  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  He  had  told  you  so  expressly  ?  " 

"  He  had." 

"  And  you  killed  him  before  he  could  reach  his  destina- 
tion?" 

"  No."    Joost's  voice  rang  out  clear  and  full. 

"  That  will  do :  Prisoner,  you  may  sit  down." 

After  that  the  witnesses  were  called,  the  witnesses  for 
the  prosecution ;  there  were  none  for  the  defense. 

Jan  Lorentz  ^ave  his  evidence  brightly  and  decidedly 
enough.  He  deposed  to  having  heard  the  Baron's  threats 
and  insults,  and  he  declared  that  he  had  wondered  how 
flesh  and  blood  could  stand  them.  His  evidence  exculpated 
the  prisoner  to  a  certain  extent,  but  at  the  same  time  it 
made  his  action  seem  all  the  more  probable.  His  account  of 
the  events  of  the  evening  flowed  on  smoothy  till  it  reached 
the  description  of  the  moment  when  the  crime  was  committed. 
Here  the  witness  faltered,  contradicted  himself,  stopped. 

"  Take  care,"  said  the  President  sternly.  "  You  repeat- 
edly stated  in  the  preliminary  inquiry  that  you  saw  the  ac- 
cused seize  his  uncle  by  the  red  neckerchief  he  wore.  That 
statement  is  fully  corroborated  by  the  evidence  of  the  Jon- 
ker  van  Asveld,  who  says  that  you  first  made  it  to  him  when 
you  were  arrested  on  a  charge  of  vagabondage,  thereby 
causing  him  to  communicate  with  the  necessary  authorities. 
Do  vou  maintain  it  now  ?  " 


193  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

The  witness  looked  round  nervously  at  Joost  Avelingh, 
then  at  van  Asveld.  His  eyes  wandered  rapidly  over  the 
glass  ceiling  of  the  hall  back  to  the  President's  face. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

The  impression,  at  the  conclusion  of  this  witness's  evi- 
dence was  unfavorable  to  him,  but  still  more  so  to  the  pris- 
oner. From  the  clumsy  attempts  he  had  made  to  "  say  a 
good  word  for  the  accused,"  and  from  his  hesitation  over 
facts  he  had  stated  plainly  on  earlier  occasions,  it  was  evi- 
dent to  every  one  who  could  put  two  and  two  together  that 
the  man  had  been  tampered  with  by  the  murderer's  friends. 
Money,  you  know,  will  do  a  good  deal  in  the  world,  and 
this  Lorentz  is  but  a  poor  devil,  they  say. 

The  Notary  described  the  arrival  of  the  chaise  with  the 
dead  man  at  his  house.  He  created  a  great  sensation  by 
solemnly  affirming  that  the  red  comforter  was  drawn 
into  a  tight  knot  round  the  neck  of  the  corpse,  a  knot  so 
tight  indeed  that  it  must,  in  his  opinion,  have  been 
purposely  tightened.  The  prisoner  was  once  more  called 
forward. 

"  Can  you  explain  the  tightness  of  the  knot  round  your 
uncle's  neck  V  " 

"  No,"  said  Joost. 

"  While  he  was  lying  in  the  chaise  in  that  condition — 
dying — that,  at  any  rate  is  in  confesso — what  did  you  do  to 
relieve  him  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Joost. 

He  felt  the  absurdity  of  the  answer,  even  while  he  made 
it.  There  was  not  a  man  in  the  hall  who  believed  him  on 
this  point — not  even  Kees  Hessel. 

"  You  may  sit  down,"  said  the  President. 

The  Notary  continued  his  account.  It  ended  with  the 
recital  of  the  prisoner's  last  words  that  fatal  evening. 
"  When  I  told  him  tlie  Baron  was  dead,"  said  the  Notary, 
"  Mynheer  Avelingh  broke  out  into  a  wild  cry.     '  I  knew 


THE  TRIAL.  I93 

it ! '  he  shrieked.  '  I  would  give  the  workl  it  were  not  so.' 
That  was  all  he  said  at  the  time." 

"  Can  yon  explain  that  exclamation  !  "  asked  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  prisoner. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  do  so." 

"  You  will  scarcely  pretend,  I  suppose,  that  it  was  caused 
by  grief  for  the  loss  of  the  man  whom  you  regarded — as 
you  have  just  admitted — with  feelings  of  such  strong  aver- 
sion ?  " 

"  It  was  not,"  said  Joost. 

After  that  came  the  doctor,  who  was  vague  and  unde- 
cided, as  it  is  the  nature  of  many  conscientious  medical  men 
to  be — of  none  more  so  than  Doctor  Kern.  There  were 
signs,  he  admitted,  which  pointed  to  strangulation,  but  as  it 
was  certain  that  the  dead  man  had  previously  had  a  fit  of 
some  kind,  it  was  almost  impossible  to  say  whether  the 
tightening  of  the  comforter,  which  accounted  for  the  symp- 
toms alluded  to,  had  occasioned  death,  or  had  perhaps 
merely  accompftnied,  or  even  immediately  succeeded  it. 

"  You  mean  to  imply,"  said  the  President,  "  that  the 
Baron  might.  Judging  from  the  condition  of  the  brain  and 
heart,  have  died  before  the  neckerchief  was  drawn  tight  ?  " 

"  That  may  have  been  so,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Immedi- 
ately before." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  the  tightening  of  the  neckerchief 
may  have  been  in  itself  sufficient  to  cause  death?" 

"  I  can  not  say,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  It  depends  first 
on  how  tight  it  was  drawn,  secondly  on  how  long  it  had 
been  tightened  before  the  Notary  loosened  it;  thirdly  on  the 
appearance  the  corpse  presented  immediately  before,  and 
immediately  after  the  unfastening  of  the  knot.  I  did  not 
see  the  corpse  till  half-an-hour  later,  and  there  was  no  post- 
mortem examination.     I  can  not  say." 

"  But  you  must  say,  sir  ! "  cried  the  little  President  pet- 
tishly, "the  whole  case  turns  on  it.'' 


194:  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

"  Then  God  help  the  prisoner,  Mynheer  the  President. 
If  my  evidence  and  Jan  Lorentz's  be  all  the  proof  against 
him,  God  grant  him  a  good  escape." 

"  Silence  !  "  cried  the  President,  "  you  were  not  asked  for 
any  such  expression  of  opinion.     Step  down,  sir." 

The  Jonker  van  Asveld  was  next  called.  lie  described 
his  first  interview  with  Lorentz.  He  also  bore  witness  to 
the  bad  feeling  existing  between  Joost  and  the  Baron.  He 
spoke  affectionately  of  the  latter.  People  pitied  van  Asveld 
and  sympathized  with  him.  lie  had  behaved  very  well  they 
said. 

It  transpired  in  the  course  of  the  examination  that  Ar- 
thur had  received  money  from  Joost.  The  whole  story  of 
the  legacy  came  out,  to  the  amazement  of  the  audience. 

"  Prisoner,"  said  the  President,  "  can  you  explain  how 
you  came  to  give  such  an  enormous  sum  as  forty  thousand 
florins  to  the  witness,  merely  because  he  asked  for  it?" 

"  I  considered  it  my  duty  to  do  so,"  said  Joost. 

"  Ah,  conscience  is  a  wonderful  power,"  said  a  clergyman 
to  his  neighbor,  "  no  rest,  you  see,  no  rest." 

The  Court  adjourned  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings. 
There  were  three  men  in  it,  at  that  moment,  and  three  only, 
who  did  not  believe  the  prisoner  guilty ;  they  were  Kees 
Hessel,  Joost  Avelingh,  and  Jan  Lorentz. 

Criminal  cases  do  not  take  long  in  Holland,  when  once 
the  stage  of  publicity  is  reached.  The  hardest  work  has 
been  got  through  in  the  long  and  careful  inquiry,  which 
may  be  looked  upon  as  a  full  rehearsal  for  the  grand  repre- 
sentation. And  there  was  no  insurmountable  mass  of  evi- 
dence on  this  occasion.  The  witnesses  had  been  heard 
before  the  luncheon  recess ;  the  pleading  would  take  place 
immediately  after.  The  case  might  be  concluded  before 
nightfall.  All  but  the  verdict,  be  it  understood ;  that  would 
not  be  pronounced  till  a  week  later. 


THE  TRIAL.  195 

They  locked  the  prisoner  in  a  cell,  while  waiting  for  the 
Court  to  reassemble.  Joost  Avelingli  felt  relieved  to  find 
himself  again  alone.  He  had  spent  several  weeks  in  almost 
continued  solitude,  broken  only  by  the  rare  visits  he  received, 
chiefly  from  officials,  and  the  inquiries  held  from  time  to  time 
by  the  Juge  d'Instruction.  After  the  long  stillness  of  that 
narrow  prison  the  blinding  light  of  the  great  judgment-hall, 
the  continual  movement  of  such  a  mass  of  human  faces, 
had  strangely  disconcerted  him  at  first.  He  was  almost 
glad  to  be  back  again  in  the  shade  and  the  silence.  He  sat 
down  on  a  coarse  wooden  bench  and  reviewed  the  morning's 
j)roceedings  as  best  he  might.  He  could  not  shut  his  eyes 
to  the  fact  that  matters  had  gone  very  much  against  him. 
And  no  doubt  it  was  true,  as  his  counsel  had  told  liini  in 
passing  out,  that  his  own  evidence  had  done  most  to  dam- 
age his  cause.  "  If  you  are  condemned,  Mr.  Avelingli,"  tlie 
lawyer  had  said,  not  without  a  shade  of  bitterness  in  his 
tone,  "and  there  is  every  reason  to  fear  yon  will  be,  you  will 
have  yourself  t9-  blame.  It  would  have  been  better  to  con- 
fess altogether,  than  to  confess  as  much  as  you  have  done, 
and  tlien  deny  the  rest." 

"  I  have  confessed  the  exact  truth,"  replied  Joost  Avelingh. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shouldci-s.  "  That  is  often  the  un- 
wisest  thing  of  all,"  he  said. 

And  now  in  the  quiet  of  this  little  cell  the  accused  again 
told  himself  that  he  had  done  right.  Self-deception  there 
may  have  been  in  his  conclusions,  but  they  were  undoubt- 
edly sincere.  No  man  need  incriminate  hi]nself,  he  rea- 
soned, but  no  man  may  tell  a  lie.  I  have  answered  each 
question  put  to  me  according  to  my  inmost  conviction ;  I 
need  not  answer  questions  they  do  not  put.  The  charge 
against  me  is  utterly  and  irremediably  false,  and  I  plead 
"  Not  guilty  "  with  all  my  heart  and  soul. 

Strange  to  say,  these  last  weeks  since  his  arrest  had  been 
in  many  ways  the  happiest  of  all  his  life.     There  had,  of 

M 


100  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

course,  been  the  cruel  sorrow  of  the  sorrow  his  wife  was  en- 
during for  liis  sake,  but  Avheu  he  put  the  thought  of  that 
away  from  him,  his  heart  gained  strengtli  and  happiness 
from  tlie  struggle  he  was  passing  through.  This  story 
trumped  up  against  him,  was  a  lie,  and  the  battle  with  the 
lie,  by  throwing  the  reality  temporarily  into  the  shade,  and 
crushing  it  down  out  of  sight,  brought  him  a  sense  of  relief 
and  of  rest  which  he  had  not  known  for  many  years.  He 
accused  himself  now  of  morbidness,  of  hypersensitive  con- 
scientiousness ;  he  laughed  at  the  thought  of  his  own  former 
doubts  and  fears.  This  was  what  men  punished ;  this,  what 
the  world  called  sin.  And  he  a  fool,  a  dreamer,  he  worried 
his  brain  about  little  things  !  He  turned  on  one  side  021  his 
hard  prison  pallet  and  slept  till  the  warder  awoke  him. 

Such  had  been  his  thoughts.  But  now,  while  waiting 
there  in  the  interval  of  his  trial,  he  iirst  began  to  realize 
what  condemnation  might  mean !  He  shuddered  at  the 
idea,  and  once  more  his  mind  reverted  to  Agatha.  He  knelt 
down  on  the  stone  floor  and  prayed  God  to  have  pity  upon 
her.  And  then  the  blue-coated  officials  came  with  their 
bunches  of  keys  and  led  him  forth  again. 

As  soon  as  the  Advocate- General  had  got  through  the 
opening  sentences  of  his  address  to  the  judges,  it  became 
apparent  to  all  present  that  it  was  exceptionally  hostile  to 
the  prisoner.  Joost  Avelingh  himself  felt  that,  with  growing 
conviction,  and  bent  forward  in  an  attitude  of  anxious  in- 
quiry. It  was  terrible  to  think  what  opinion  this  man  must 
have  formed  of  him.  "Was  it  but  the  expression  of  the 
thoughts  of  all  around  ? 

The  Advocate-General  painted  in  glowing  colors  the 
benefactions  which  Joost  had  received  from  his  uncle  in  a 
long  course  of  years.  He  represented  the  boy  as  taciturn 
and  undutiful  from  the  first — there  was  evidence  enough 
to  jirove  it — and  the  old  man  as  violent  and  headstrong 
undoubtedly,  for  so  old  men  often  will  be,  but  kindly  and 


THE  TRIAL.  197 

well-intentioned  on  the  whole.  He  described  the  crime 
which  had  been  committed — of  the  crime  itself  there  could 
be  no  doubt — as  entirely  attributable  to  cupidit}',  resentment, 
and  youthful  passion.  For  the  latter,  he  said,  some  excuse 
might  certainly  have  been  found — the  accused  had  most  prob- 
ably truly  loved  the  woman  he  afterward  married — but  that 
excuse  disappeared  before  the  fact  that  there  was  evidently 
as  much  cu^ndity  as  love  in  the  motive  which  actuated  the 
murderer.  And  if  love  was  a  noble  passion,  and  even  lust 
jjerhajis  a  palHableone,  cupidity,  the  sordid  desire  of  an  old 
man's  gold,  was  the  lowest,  the  most  demoralizing  of  all. 
The  crime  was  an  exceptional  one.  The  guilty  man  be- 
longed to  a  class  in  which  criminals  were  rare — not  because 
the  men  of  that  class  were  better  than  others,  but  because 
they  had  less  temptation  to  transgress.  The  victim  was  an 
old  noble,  a  person  of  great  wealth,  rank  and  consequence  ; 
he  had  been  foully  and  secretly  murdered  by  the  viper  he 
had  taken  to  his  bosom.  During  ten  long  years  the  male- 
factor had  enjoyed  all  the  fruits  of  his  horrible  deed,  and 
in  that  period  he  had  sought  to  procure  for  himself  a  repu- 
tation for  charity — and  perhaps,  who  knows  ? — to  lull  his 
guilty  conscience  to  sleep  by  lavishly  dispensing  his  ill- 
gotten  treasures.  But  at  length  the  slow  step  of  Justice 
had  tracked  him,  for  her  advance  is  sure,  if  slow.  The 
crime,  truly,  had  been  as  was  said,  exceptional.  The  pun- 
ishment of  this  generous,  gentlemanly.  God-fearing  parri- 
cide must  be  exemplary  and  exceptional  too !  A  slight 
burst  of  applause,  suppressed  immediately,  greeted  the  con- 
clusion of  this  eloquent  harangue. 

What  could  the  counsel  for  the  defense — himself  con- 
vinced of  his  client's  guilt — bring  forward  in  reply?  He 
tried,  as  best  he  could,  to  disarm  the  evidence  of  Jan  Lo- 
rentz  ;  he  pointed  out  the  discrepancies  in  the  doctor's  pro- 
fessional statement ;  he  reproached  the  Notary  bitterly  for 
not  having  given  information  earlier  to  the  police  if  he  cen- 


to 


198  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

sidered  the  circumstances  of  the  death  at  all  suspicioiis. 
He  attacked  that  Notary  with  a  vigor  wliich  showed  that 
he  was  seeking  a  safety-valve  for  his  pent-up  feelings.  He 
woiild  not  be  so  angry,  said  tlie  old  lawyers,  shaking  their 
heads,  if  he  did  not  feel  that  his  was  a  losing  cause. 

As  for  his  client,  the  advocate  did  not  say  much  in  his 
favor.  He  felt  that  he  could  not.  Something  got  up  into 
his  throat  and  choked  the  words  down.  But  he  could 
truthfully  and  conscientiously  assert  that  in  his  opinion  the 
so-called  legal  evidence  which  the  Dutch  law  demands  had 
not  been  sufficiently  produced  and  that  therefore,  whatever 
men  might  think  for  themselves,  the  Judges,  as  judges, 
must  acquit  a  man  whom  they  could  not  legally  convict. 

"  My  client  has  declared  his  innocence,"  said  the  Coun- 
sel," and  the  law  has  not  succeeded  in  establishing  his 
guilt.  If  he  sinned,  he  sinned  alone  in  the  darkness,  and 
in  the  darkness  his  deed  has  remained.  And  sin,  ere  the 
law  can  touch  it,  must  lie  red  and  glaring,  an  offense  to 
all  who  tread  the  highway,  in  the  resistless  light  of  day !  " 

A  voice  from  the  gallery  called  out  "  Jan  Lorentz  !  "  in 
allusion  to  the  words  "  alone  in  the  darkness."  There  was 
another  burst  of  approval.  Joost  Avelingh,  for  the  first 
time  during  the  long  trial,  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

It  was  growing  dark  when  the  Court  rose.  They  were 
lighting  the  street-lamps.  Outside,  a  turbulent  crowd  still 
waited,  eager  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  prisoner,  hoping  to 
hear  something  of  what  was  going  on  inside,  if  it  were  only 
the  latest  news  of  the  proceedings.  A  broad  stream  of 
black-coated  gentlemen  flowed  out  and  mingled  with  the 
populace.  Everbody  was  discussing  the  events  of  the  day, 
the  attitude  of  the  prisoner,  the  statements  of  the  witnesses, 
the  address  of  the  Advocate-General.  The  black  van  again 
rumbled  under  an  archway,  amid  the  disappointed  hootings 
of  the  roughs.  The  prisoner  got  into  it.  He  was  less 
calm  and  firm  now,  it  was  said,  than  at  the  beginning  of 


THE  TURNING-POINT.  190 

the  trial.  His  courage  seemed  to  be  giving  way.  He  had 
asked,  immediately  on  coming  out,  to  be  allowed  to  see  his 
wife.  The  verdict  would  be  given,  as  usual,  after  an  inter- 
val of  a  week. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  TUKNING-POINT. 

"  Yes,  I've  done  it,"  said  Jan  Lorentz,  "  I've  done  it,  and 
now  I  want  to  know  what  I'm  to  get  for  my  pains." 

"  You  had  your  regular  indemnification  as  witness,  hadn't 
you  ?  "  said  van  Asveld  with  an  awkward  laugh.  "  If  not, 
you  can  still  apply  for  it." 

"  Don't  humbug  mo,"  cried  Lorentz  fiercely,  "  you'll  be 
so  good  as  to  give  me  a  definite  answer  to-day,  Jonker." 

"  Don't  shout  in  that  way,"  said  Arthur.  "  I'm  not  deaf, 
and,  if  I  were^it  would  be  better  to  carry  on  our  negotia- 
tions in  writing  than  to  yell  at  each  other  in  this  manner.  I 
do  not  as  yet  know  what  negotiations  need  take  place.  What 
do  you  want  of  me  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  want  of  you  ?  "  repeated  Lorentz  in  wrath- 
ful amazement.  "  Why  the  money,  of  course,  which  I  was 
to  have  for  giving  my  evidence." 

"  Let  us  understand  each  other,"  said  Arthur,  sitting  down 
at  his  table  and  measuring  imaginary  lines  with  a  ruler 
which  lay  there.  "  You  were  in  possession  of  certain  facts 
which  it  is  in  itself  a  legal  offense  not  to  communicate  to  the 
authorities ;  you  alluded  to  them  in  the  course  of  an  inter- 
view with  me,  an  official  interview,  mind  you,  and  I,  of 
course,  having  received  3^our  information,  in  my  oflftcial  ca- 
pacity, passed  it  on,  as  I  was  bound  to  do,  to  the  Public  Prose- 
cutor, ^riiut  functionary  examined  you  ;  ho  could  not  well 
act  otherwise.     In  due  time  the  case  came  on  for  trial,  and 


200  JOOST  AVELlNGn. 

you  appeared  in  it  as  witness.  So  far,  all  seems  plain,  and 
there  is  nothing  unusual.  For  which  of  these  successive 
developments — all  growing  out  of  each  other,  it  appears  to 
me,  as  the  leaves  of  a  plant — if  you  iinderstand  so  poetic  a 
simile — do  you  expect  to  be  exceptionally  rewarded  ?  " 

Jan  Lorentz  looked  mystified.  "  I  want  my  money,"  he 
said  doggedly,  after  a  moment's  pause.  It  seemed  the  safest 
thing  to  say. 

"  Would  you,"  began  Arthur  again,  smiling  sweetly, 
"  oblige  me  by  answering  my  first  question  before  we  proceed 
any  farther  ?  " 

"  Jonker,  I  don't  care.  You  promised  me  my  money, 
and  I  must  have  it.  You  promised  that  you  would  pay 
me  for  giving  my  evidence.  You  very  well  know  you 
did." 

"  As  you  will  not  answor  my  question,"  said  Arthur  in  a 
tone  of  gentle  complaint,  "  I  suppose  I  must  continue  with- 
out knowing  your  opinion.  Now,  here  the  personal  consid- 
eration comes  in — "  the  stout  Jonker  rubbed  his  hands.  He 
was  not  as  has  been  said,  a  particularly  bright  personage 
himself,  and  he  therefore  intensely  enjoyed  intellectually 
mastering  this  ignorant  creature — "the  personal  question 
comes  in.  For  reasons  of  no  further  import  to  any  ope  but 
myself  I  have  special  cause  to  regard  Mynheer  Avelingh 
with  disfavor  and  I  cherish  the  memory  of  my— venerable, 
let  us  say— venerable,  uncle.  I  therefore  take  a  peculiar, 
and  perhaps  abnormal,  interest  in  this  confession  of  yours, 
and  to  express  the  satisfaction  I  feel  at  your  having  done 
your  duty,  simply  your  duty,  mind  you,  the  duty  of  every 
honest  citizen,  I  obtain  your  release  from  custody  by  myself 
paying  off  your  damages,  and — " 

"  And  ?  "  said  Lorentz,  his  eyes  growing  bright  and  cun- 
ning again. 

"  And  you  reward  me,  you  scoundrel,  by  asking  for 
more 


t" 


TEE  TURNING-POINT.  201 

Lorentz  was  thoroughly  taken  aback  by  this  uuexpected 
conckisiou.  "  You  promised,"  he  stammered  again,  "  you 
know  you  j^romised  to  give  me  more  than  Mynheer  Ave- 
lingh  ever  did.  Xot  that  Aveliugh  ever  gave  me  any- 
thing ! " 

"  By  your  own  confession,  then,"  said  Asveld  coolly,  "  if 
those  last  words  be  true,  I  have  already  redeemed  my  prom- 
ise. But,  look  here,  you  needn't  think  that  a  man  of  my 
rank  will  deny  his  word  to  a  poor  beggar  like  you.  I  told 
you  I  would  give  you  money,  as  you  say.  I  was  a  fool  to  do 
it,  and  really  I  can  -scarcely  account  for  my  behavior  now. 
I  was  very  excited — but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there. 
Money  you  shall  have." 

"  How  much  ?  "  said  Lorentz. 

"  One  can  see  you  are  not  accustomed  to  do  business 
Avith  gentlemen.  On  the  day  of  the  verdict,  if  it  goes 
against  Avelingh,  as  it  certainly  will,  I  shall  give,  although 
as  I  say,  you  have  done  nothing  to  earn  them,  but  because  I 
have  passed  nay  word  in  a  moment  of  excitement,  I  shall 
give  you  a  hundred  florins." 

"  A  hundred  florins,"  repeated  Lorentz  slowly.  "  Pooh," 
he  suddenly  said. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  damn  you,"  cried  Arthur  in  a  sud- 
den fury,  "  that  you  consider  the  sum  too  small  ?  " 

"  Pooh,"  said  Lorentz  again.  Yet  at  the  same  time  ho 
began  to  tremble  violently  from  suppressed  excitement, 
which  his  enfeebled  frame  was  unable  to  support. 

'  Damn  you  twice  over,"  cried  Arthur,  in  a  still  louder 
voice.  "  Get  out  of  the  room  this  instant  before  I  knock  you 
down-stairs!  Get  out,  I  tell  you!"  lie  ran  round  to  the 
door  and  throw  it  wide  open.  Lorentz  shrank  back,  lie 
was  frightened.  He  was  not  a  man  to  threaten,  but  there 
was  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  well  might  have  made  Ariluir 
pause  and  })aHey.  T*)ut  tlie  Junker — all  his  pride  up  in 
arms  at   the  insult   liis   gciuToiis  olTcr   had   rcci'ivcd — and. 


202  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

really,  in  making  it  lie  had  been  moved  by  a  magnanimous 
impulse  to  redeem  a  promise  thoughtlessly  made — the  Jon- 
ker  pointed  haughtily  to  the  door.  Jan  Lorentz  crept  cau- 
tiously past  hira,  and  slunk  slowly  down  the  stairs. 

"  Disgusting,"  said  Arthur  to  himself,  as  he  shut  the 
door.  "  AVhat  are  these  insolent  beggars  coming  to,  I  won- 
der ?  Here  do  I,  hard-up  as  I  am,  oifer  this  man  a  present 
of  a  hundred  florins,  merely  out  of  a  conscientious  desire  to 
keep  my  word  to  him,  and  look  what  I  get  in  reply.  And 
surely,  I  owe  him  nothing.  I  may  have  said  that  morning : 
'  I  would  have  given  anything,'  or  '  half  the  world,'  or 
something  of  the  kind ;  I  really  don't  remember.  Peoj)le 
use  such  expressions  every  day.  And  the  idea  of  taking  one 
at  one's  word.  Half  the  world  indeed !  It's  as  much  as  I 
can  do  to  keep  my  tailor  in  a  fairly  good  temj^er  and  per- 
suade him  to  let  me  have  a  new  coat." 

So  reasoned  Arthur  van  Asveld,  not  altogether  unfairly, 
and  threw  himself  down  on  a  sofa  with  a  yellow-covered 
novel  in  his  hand. 

The  man  he  had  so  ignominously  dismissed,  walked 
slowly  down  the  village  street  toward  his  own  home.  There 
was  an  angry  look  in  his  eye  and  there  was  fury,  red  and 
raging,  in  his  heart.  lie  was  not  accustomed  to  feel  strongly 
— his  soul  had  lived  in  a  thickening  haze  for  many  years — 
and  the  very  violence  of  his  emotion  alarmed  him.  One 
thought  was  beating  at  his  brain :  this  van  Asveld  had 
cruelly  wronged  him,  and  he  was  unable  to  retaliate.  And 
before  the  wrong  so  suddenly  made  apparent,  his  bright  day- 
dream of  future  respectability  seemed  to  vanish  into  space. 
Worse  than  that,  he  had  sold  his  soul  for  gold,  and  found 
himself  defrauded  of  the  price.  For  Arthur,  looking  at  the 
question  from  his  point  of  view  and  entirely  unconscious  of 
any  foul  play,  it  was  perhaps  not  unnatural  to  conclude, 
that  he  owed  the  man  nothing  but  a  reward  which  his  ex- 
cited nromisps  had    reudm'r^d    inevitable.     Rut   to   Lorentz 


THE  TURNING-POINT.  203 

who  regarded  the  matter  in  quite  a  different  light  and  be- 
lieved himself  to  have  been  inveigled  by  van  Asveld  into 
statements  he  would  never  otherwise  have  made,  it  seemed 
that  nothing  but  wealth  almost  unmeasured  could  make 
good  such  a  sacrifice  of  peace. 

He  stumbled  on  then  with  a  fierce,  ungovernable  fury  at 
his  heart,  largely  made  up,  though  he  knew  it  not,  of  re- 
morse and  despair.  He  hated  Arthur.  But  he  was  power- 
less to  hurt  him  in  any  way.  He  was  equally  powerless  to 
undo  the  wrong  he  had  done.  And  so,  to  the  end,  he  must 
continue  to  serve  the  Jonker's  purposes,  and  be  laughed  at, 
after  all,  for  his  pains.  He  was  angry ;  he  was  glad  he  was 
angry.  He  thought  with  a  dim  foreboding  fear,  how  miser- 
able he  would  bo  when  the  anger  passed  away.  At  van  As- 
veld's  bidding,  or  persuasion,  call  it  what  you  will,  he  had 
abstained  from  drink  almost  entirely  of  late.  The  more  fool 
he !  He  resolved  to  do  so  no  longer.  He  Avould  have  a 
drink  that  night — "  a  regular  good  one  " — and  that  would 
put  a  little  strength  in  his  veins.  It  would  warm  up  his 
hatred  of  his  enemy,  too.  Yes,  that  would  be  the  best  thing 
for  the  moment,  a  "  regular  good,  thundering  drinking- 
bout  !  " 

The  mere  idea  seemed  to  invigorate  him.  He  turned 
down  toward  the  shop  over  which  he  had  his  room.  He 
was  in  a  mood  whidi  would  either  drive  him  to  tlie  devil 
forever,  or  rescue  him  on  (he  very  brink  of  the  precipice. 

As  he  entered  the  shop,  he  saw  that  a  woman  was  stand- 
ing at  the  counter,  talking  to  the  mistress  of  the  place. 
l>ofh  were  crying.  At  least,  tlic  one  whose  back  was  turned 
to  him  had  her  handkerchief  before  her  face,  and  Juffrouw 
Kaas,  his  landlady,  was  also  allowing  the  great  tears  to 
course  slowly  down  her  fat,  red  cheeks.  With  Juffrouw 
Kaas  Aveeping  was  a  cheap  luxury,  to  ])e  enjoyed  as  often  as 
a  rational  occasion  presented  itself,  sorrow  and  joy  being 
alike   nviiilabln,   altbongh    sorrow    was    dcH'jilcdly  ]ircfoi"rcd. 


20-1:  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

The  sorrow  of  others,  of  course.     That  goes  without  saying. 
It  was  so  much  more  thrilling  and  emotional  than  Joy. 

Lorentz  was  about  to  find  his  way  up-stairs,  as  was  his 
wont,  with  a  surly  "good  evening"  to  the  shop-Avoman, 
when  she  stopped  him  with  a  little  cry  of  delight.  She 
often  stopped  him — or  tried  to  do  so — because  he  was  the 
best  authority  upon  the  great  trial  and  could  give  the  latest 
news.  She  was  proud  of  him  on  that  account  and  had 
made  peace  with  him  in  spite  of  various  little  defitciencies  she 
would  never  have  borne  in  any  other  lodger.  She  often  told 
herself  he  should  go  as  soon  as  the  trial  was  over.  But  till 
then  he  was  well  worth  keeping.  He  gave  her  quite  an  im- 
portant position  among  the  numerous  gossips  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. She  was  "Jan  Lorentz's  landlady"  nowadays, 
almost  more  than  Juffrouw  Kaas. 

"  Why,  here  is  Jan  Lorentz  himself,"  cried  the  good 
Juffrouw.  "  Oh  dear  !  Oh  dear !  Mynheer  Lorentz,  this 
is  Mejuffrouw  from  the  castle.  And  oh  dear,  dear,  to  think 
of  the  sorrow  up  there  !  It's  terrible  to  think  of  !  "  And 
Jutfrouw  Kaas  fell  to  crying  again. 

The  woman  by  the  counter  took  her  handkerchief  from 
her  eyes  and  turned  round  quickly.  Jan  Lorentz  found 
himself  gazing  upon  the  same  countenance  which  had  lived 
on  in  his  dreams  all  those  years.  It  was  but  little  changed ; 
a  trifle  rounder,  perhaps,  and  fuller;  that  was  all.  The 
same  prim,  innocent  expression ;  the  same  pink  cheeks  and 
clear  blue  eyes.  These  latter  were  dimmed  with  tears  at  the 
present  moment,  but  their  owner  looked  all  the  sweeter  in 
her  sorrow.     It  was  Dieutje. 

"  And  oh  the  agony  up  at  the  Castle,"  cried  Juffrouw 
Kaas.  "  Oh  my  dear  Dientje !  My  dear  Mr.  Lorentz  it  is 
heartrending  to  think  of  it !  "  She  burst  out  crying  afresh, 
and  Dientje,  who  had  kept  her  eyes  till  then  fixed  immova- 
bly on  her  former  lover's  face,  also  suddenly  buried  them 
afresh  in  her  handkerchief. 


DAS  EWIG   WEIBLICHE  ZIEIIT   UNS  IIINAN.       205 

Jau  Lorentz  gazed  at  her  for  one  moment,  and  then, 
turning,  lied  up-stairs,  as  fast  as  his  shaky  legs  could  carry 
him.  He  reached  his  garret  in  safety  and  there,  throwing 
himself  down  on  the  bed,  he  sobbed  like  a  little  child. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

DAS    EWIG  .  WEIBLICHE   ZIEHT    UlSTS   HINAN". 

It  was  true,  as  Juffrouw  Kaas  had  said,  that  the  grief 
at  the  castle  was  heartrending.  But  if  that  worthy  woman 
had  seen  it,  she  would  probably  not  have  emitted  any  such 
opinion.  It  is  far  more  likely  that  she  would  have  remarked 
on  the  coldness  and  indifference  of  these  rich  people  who  sit 
silent  and  sleepy  while  their  huslxinds  and  sons  are  being 
dragged  away  to  prison.  And  she  would  have  tried  to  pict- 
ure to  you  some-  conception  of  her  own  sorrow,  if  any  similar 
misfortune  had  been  possible  in  her  case.  But,  thank 
IToavcji,  no ;  hers  was  a  respectable  family.  "  Though, 
really,  no  offense  to  you,  Dientje,  for  Mr.  Avelingh  was 
always  as  pleasant-spoken  a  gentleman  as  ever  I  came 
across." 

The  agony  through  which  Agatha  Avelingh  passed  dur- 
ing that  final  week  of  suspense  was  too  awful  for  utterance. 
She  bore  it,  then,  almost  silently,  and,  but  for  an  occasional 
pressure  of  the  luiud  or  look  of  affection,  even  her  own 
motlior  scarcely  dared  to  express  sympathy.  In  such  a  ter- 
rible crisis  as  this  wliat  could  words,  however  tender,  avail  V 
They  spoke  sometimes  for  a  few  moments,  in  a  half-fright- 
ened whisper,  of  the  incidents  of  the  trial,  or  of  some  cir- 
cumstance which  concerned  the  case.  But  both  women 
seemed  to  be  afraid  of  stirring  the  deptlis  of  their  sorrow. 
It   wu^  a   rclii'f  to  A'j-atlja  to  wocp  wiili    l^cltckoo  over  her 


20G  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

minor  troubles,  and  tliey  talked  freely  together,  and  fre- 
quently, of  the  faithless  lover. 

On  this  particular  evening  they  were  sitting  in  Joost's 
room  around  a  lingering  fire,  for  it  was  the  end  of  April 
and  the  days  were  still  chilly.  Agatha,  somehow,  liked  to 
spend  most  of  her  time  in  that  room,  in  spite  of  the  pain 
which  each  familiar  object  caused  her.  She  preferred  pass- 
ing the  hours  there  in  silence,  working  at  some  trifle  that 
occupied  her  fingers  and  let  her  thoughts  go  free.  It  would 
have  been  better,  perhaps,  had  she  thrown  herself  into  a  full 
stream  of  continued  eft'ort,  as  Joost  had  done  when  his 
troubles  overmastered  him.  She  admitted  it  to  herself,  but 
she  could  not  find  strength  to  begin.  She  had  striven,  and 
with  partial  success,  to  occupy  her  thoughts  in  the  previous 
weeks,  but  during  this  last  period  of  suspense  between  the 
trial  and  the  verdict,  anxiety — breathless,  heartbreaking 
anxiety — conquered  every  other  imjiression.  And  this  even- 
ing— the  evening  before  the  decisive  day — she  sat  by  the 
fireside  with  Joost's  belongings  all  around  her,  and,  as  she 
bent  over  her  crochet,  her  whole  soul  was  with  her  husband 
in  his  prison-cell. 

Kees  Hessel  had  come  up  to  see  his  mother  and  sisters. 
He  joined  them  frequently  of  evenings  after  his  day's  work 
was  over.  And  they  would  sit  and  talk  of  many  things,  while 
thinking  of  one.  And  if  Kees  could  bring  a  whisper  from 
the  outer  world,  however  insignificant,  which  seemed  to  turn 
the  faintest  current  in  Joost's  favor,  he  would  spread  it  out 
before  them,  and  they  would  reason  over  it  together,  till  it 
looked  like  a  mighty  wind  that  was  bringing  them  hope  and 
good  news.  They  talked  of  the  trial  openly  every  now  and 
then,  when  the  tension  became  unbearable,  and  strong  feel- 
ing broke  through  the  dyke. 

Kees  was  telling  a  long  story  now  as  he  bent  toward  the 
fire  with  outstretched  hands,  of  the  comical  courting  of  a 
young  man  of  tlieir  own  circle,  who,  having  heard  that  the 


DAS  EVVIG   WEIBLICHE  ZIEIIT    UNS   HINAN.      £07 

girl  he  was  cTiamored  of,  had  a  weakness  for  gingerbread, 
had  sent  her  the  whole  of  her  name  in  great  gingerbread 
letters:  Sophia  Dorothea  van  Duivenvoorden,  a  cartful  of 
honey-cake.  They  were  laughing  at  the  story  with  what 
small  courage  for  laughter  they  had.  Even  Agatha  smiled  a 
wan  little  smile. 

"  And  they  say,''  concluded  Kees,  "  that  she  ate  it  all  up 
in  a  month,  a  letter  a  day  from  the  first  to  the  thirtieth,  and 
then,  having  no  more  gingerbread  on  the  thirty-first,  accepted 
him  in  the  cojirse  of  that  morning." 

"  Kees,"  said  Agatha,  with  her  eyes  on  her  work,  "  will 
they  condemn  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Kees,  staring  at  the  fire.  "  I 
daren't  say,  Agatha.  I  daren't  hold  out  any  false  hopes  to 
you.     Things  are  very  much  against  him." 

"  Have  you  then  heard  anything  new  ?  " 

What  could  he  say  to  her  ?  They  had  been  telling  at 
the  Club  that  afternoon  that  the  judges  were  unanimous. 
So  much  had  leaked  out,  as  such  things  will.  It  was  hardly 
likely  that  they  would  be  unanimous  in  a  resolve  to  acquit 
him. 

"  There  are  always  rumors  of  various  kinds  afloat  on 
such  occasions,"  he  replied  uneasily.  '■'  It's  no  use  worrying 
you  with  all  that  people  conjecture.  But  I  can  not  deny 
that  we  must  prepare  for  the  worst." 

"  Oh,  Kees,  he  will  be  condemned  !  "  she  said,  and  she 
dropped  her  face  on  her  hands. 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  some  minutes.  Mov- 
rouw  van  Ilessel  made  a  movement  as  if  to  go  to  her  daughter, 
but  sank  back  in  her  chair  again  undecided. 

Agatha  looked  up,  "  And  when  he  is  condemned,"  she 
said,  "  it  will  be  on  the  evidence  of  Jan  Lorentz." 

"  Not  on  that  alone,  Agatha.     That  would  not  suflice." 

*'  No  I  know,"  she  said,  a  little  imjmtiently.  She  was 
going  over  the  ground  in  her  mind  again  for  the  hundredth 

14 


208  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

time.  "  Of  course  they  must  have  the  other  witnesses  to 
complete  it.  But  you  yourself  think,Kees,  do  you  not? —  " 
She  turned  to  him  with  a  sudden  appeal  in  her  eyes — "  that 
the  legal  proof  of  the  deed  has  not  been  furnished  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  said  so  dozens  of  times 
to  whomsoever  will  hear  me.  And  it's  my  opinion,  but 
people  think  me  a  fool." 

"  But  the  judges  may  share  that  opinion?  He  may  get 
off  on  that  score,  even  if  the  world  still  thinks  him  guilty." 

Kees  shook  his  head  doubtingly.     "  lie  may,"  he  said. 

"  But  he  will  not !  "  cried  Agatha.  "  And  yet,  if  Lo- 
rentz's  evidence  were  not  there,  he  could  never  be  con- 
demned !     There  would  be  no  talk  of  legal  proof  at  all !  " 

"  If  it  were  not  for  Lorentz's  evidence,"  said  her  brother, 
"  there  would  never  have  been  any  case  at  all.  There  would 
have  been  really  no  proof,  legal  or  otherwise.  The  others 
merely  complete  his  story  and  give  it  an  air  of  probability. 
They  furnish  the  judges  with  the  necessary  pretext  to  con- 
demn the  accused  on  what  is  practically  the  testimony  of 
one  witness.  Hundreds  of  men  are  judged  in  that  way. 
It's  all  fair  and  square  as  a  rule.  You  can't  let  every  mur- 
derer go  free  who  hasn't  invited  two  friends  to  come  and  see 
him  do  the  murder." 

"  When  he  is  condemned,"  said  Agatha,  "  it  will  be  on 
the  evidence  of  Jan  Lorentz." 

"  Well,  yes.  Have  it  so,  if  you  will,  though  that's  not 
the  way  we  lawyers  put  it." 

"  And  this  man  says,"  Agatha  went  on  after  a  short, 
thoughtful  pause, "  that  he  saw  Joost  clench  his  uncle  by  the 
throat  and  strangle  him  with  a  neckerchief." 

"  So  he  says,"  replied  Kees. 

"He  lies,  Kees." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  dearest.  If  I  did  not  think  he 
lied,  I  could  not  believe  Joost  to  be  innocent,  as  I  do  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart." 


DAS  EWIG   WEIBLICHE  ZIEHT  UNS  HINAN.       209 

"  Yes,  he  is  innocent,"  said  Agatlia,  aloud,  to  herself. 
'•'  Let  us  never  forget  that  that  is  the  great  consolation.  Oh, 
mother,  if  he  were  guilty,  it  would  be  unbearable." 

"  Doctor  Kern  and  I  were  talking  about  it  only  this  after- 
noon," remarked  Kees.  "  The  Doctor  has  veered  round  a 
good  deal  lately.  Not  about  his  evidence ;  he  sticks  to  that, 
as  indeed  he  easily  can,  for  it  may  mean  everything  or  noth- 
ing. But  about  Lorentz.  He  believed  in  Loreutz  quite  at 
first.  Now,  however,  for  the  last  week  or  so,  he  has  altered 
his  opinion.  He  has  been  watching  him  closely,  and  he  tells 
me  he  thinks  the  man  is  playing  a  part,  or  telling  a  got-up 
story.  Money  may  be  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Nothing  else 
well  could  be,  one  would  say.  I  have  sometimes  wondered 
whether  Arthur  van  Asveld,  with  whom  the  whole  thing  be- 
gan, can  i^ossibly — but  no,  the  idea  is  too  absurd.  Besides, 
van  Asveld  couldn't  pay  the  price  usually  charged  for  a  vil- 
lainy, even  if  he  wanted  to.  No,  no ;  it's  a  mysterious  busi- 
ness altogether." 

Agatha  staried  up.  "  I  must  go  and  sec  this  man,"  she 
said.     "  Mother  will  you  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  My  dear  girl,"  cried  Kees  in  alarm,  "  what  are  you 
thinking  of?  It  would  be  no  manner  of  use  !  Only  bring 
you  fresh  trouble." 

"  This  man,"  said  Agatha,  "  swears  he  saw  my  husband 
do  a  thing  I  know  he  did  not  do.  I  must  find  out  wliy  he 
swears  it.  I  have  often  thought  I  should  wish  to  see  him 
and  ask  him.  I  have  put  it  off  till  now,  but,  somehow,  the 
thought  of — of  to-morrow  gives  me  courage.  Let  us  go  at 
once." 

"  I  think  it  is  unwise,"  said  Kees.  "It  is  only  exposing 
yourself  to  unnecessary  insult.  Let  me  go,  if  the  thing  is  to 
be  done,  though  I  do  not  see  what  you  expect  to  gain  by  it." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Agatha.  "  I  must  go.  I  have  resolved 
now  to  see  him.  And  mamma  will  accompany  me.  Ring 
the  bell,  Kees,  and  tell  thcni  to  get  a  carriage  ready." 


210  JOOST  AVELINGn. 

Kees  obeyed  lier.  lS[o  one  could  contradict  her  well  at 
this  moment,  or  cause  her  the  most  trivial  unnecessary  dis- 
pleasure. Her  maid  was  sent  for,  but  the  answer  came  back 
that  Dientje  had  gone  up  to  the  village,  it  being  her  evening 
out.  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  quietly  got  her  own  and  her 
daughter's  wraps,  and  in  another  twenty  minutes  they  were 
bowling  swiftly  along  the  road  to  Heist. 

Kees  Hessel  had  been  able  to  tell  them  Avhere  to  find  the 
man  they  were  in  search  of.  The  carriage  took  them  to  the 
Burgomaster's,  and  from  thence  the  two  women  walked  a 
distance  of  some  fifteen  minutes  along  a  still  country  road. 
It  was  barely  half-past  eight  when  they  turned  into  the 
village-street. 

They  reached  Juffrouw  Kaas's  little  tobacco  shop,  and 
Agatha  entered  first.  A  thick  gray  veil  she  wore  comj^letely 
hid  her  face.  She  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute  by  the 
counter.     The  little  shop-bell  tinkled  on. 

It  brought  out  Juffrouw  Kaas  in  a  great  hurry.  Lady- 
customers  were  naturally  an  unusual  thing  with  her.  The 
good  woman's  face  was  redder  than  ever,  but  she  had  dried 
her  tears. 

"  Does  a  person  of  the  name  of  Jan  Lorcntz  live  here  ?  " 
Agatha  was  beginning.  She  stopped  in  dismay.  Through 
the  open  glass  door  she  saw  her  maid  sitting  near  a  cosy 
tea-tray  in  the  snug  little  room  at  the  back  of  the  shop.  For- 
tunately her  mother  caught  sight  of  the  girl  at  the  same 
moment  and  rajiidly  signed  to  her  not  to  betray  them.  Good 
Juffrouw  Kaas  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  evident 
curiosity. 

"  Jan  Lorentz  is  my  lodger,"  she  began.  "  Do  the 
ladies  wish  to  speak  to  him '?  If  so,  I  will  run  up  and  tell 
him?" 

'•  ISTo,"  said  Agatha.  "  I  could  not  think  of  causing  you 
that  trouble.  We  v/ill  go  to  him.  He  is  in  his  room,  you 
say  ?    It  is  at  the  top  of  the  house  ?  " 


DAS  EWIG  ^V^EIBLICHE  ZIEHT   UNS  HINAN.       211 

"  Oh,  Mevrouw,  it  is  not  a  place  for  ladies  like  you ! 
And  who  knows  but  he  may  have  been  having  a  drop  too 
much  again.  lie  offends  in  that  way  just  a  little  occasion- 
ally. I  must  admit  that  he  does.  I  was  not  aware  of  any 
such  thing,  you  may  be  sure,  Mevrouw,  when  I  let  him  have 
my  room." 

Agatha  could  not  repress  a  slight  shudder.  But  at  the 
same  time,  she  passed  to  the  steep  staircase  at  the  back  of 
the  shop  and  began  to  mount  it  without  further  parley.  Her 
mother  followed  her.     They  could  trust  Dientje. 

"  I  must  request  you,"  said  Agatha,  stopping  on  the 
stairs  and  raising  her  voice  purposely  so  that  the  maid 
might  hear,  "not  to  follow  us.  It  is  unnecessary.  The 
door  on  the  second  story  to  the  right,  you  say  ?  Thank 
3'ou.     I  wish  to  speak  to  this  man  alone." 

Dientje  was  naturally  tingling  all  over  with  curiosity. 
But  she  would  keep  Juffrouw  Kaas  downstairs  now,  all  the 
same. 

The  two  ladies  groped  their  way  up  and  found  the  door. 
They  knocked ;  a  gruff  voice  bade  them  enter.  There  was 
a  little  fumbling  to  find  the  door-handle  at  the  dark  stair- 
head— you  could  not  call  it  a  passage — and  then  Agatha 
opened  the  door  and  M^alked  in.  Her  mother  followed 
her. 

The  garret  was  dark  but  for  such  light  as  came  in 
through  the  curtainless  window  from  a  clouded  moon.  A 
man  sat  on  a  chair,  cowered  up  somehow,  with  his  arms  on 
the  back,  and  his  head  in  his  arms.  He  did  not  look  up. 
He  thought  it  was  Juffrouw  Kaas,  come  to  prattle  about  to- 
morrow. 

"  You  are  Jan  Lorentz  ?  "  said  Agatha,  pausing  near  tlic 
door. 

He  started  at  the  strange  voice.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  getting 
off  his  chair  and  standing  awkwardly  beside  it.  "  Yes,  I 
am  Jan  Lorentz." 

N 


212  JOOST  AVELIXGH. 

Agatha  took  a  step  forward  into  tlie  dim  room.  "  And 
I  am  Mevrouw  Avelingh,"  she  said. 

He  staggered  back  and  reeled  backward,  clinging  to  his 
chair.  "  What  do  you  want  with  me,  Mevrouw  ?  "  he  stam- 
mered forth. 

"  I  am  Mevrouw  Avelingh,"  she  continued,  speaking 
hurriedly  as  if  she  were  afraid  to  trust  her  own  voice,  "  the 
wife  of  the  man  who  is  to  be  condemned  to-morrow.  He 
will  be  condemned  on  evidence  which  you  have  given.  And 
I  am  come  to  ask  you  why  you  gave  it,  knowing  it  to  be  a 
lie?" 

He  stood  staring  at  her.  Even  in  the  semi-darkness  she 
could  see  his  wild  eyes.  She  faced  him,  throwing  back  her 
veil  so  as  to  see  the  better  and  speak  the  clearer.  Her  fair 
face  seemed  to  gather  toward  it  all  the  scattered  rays  of 
light  in  the  little  room. 

"  For  you  knew  it  to  be  a  lie,"  she  went  on  more  hur- 
riedly still.  "  And  you  know  this  very  evening,  sitting  here 
alone  in  the  darkness,  that  it  is  a  lie  you  have  spoken  before 
man  and  before  God.  I  ask  myself  how  it  is  possible  that 
you  can  abide  thus  with  your  own  thoughts  in  the  stillness 
of  the  coming  night,  that  you  can  go  to  sleep,  to  rest,  with 
the  thought  upon  your  heart  of  what  you  have  done,  of  what 
you  are  doing  still.     Tell  me,  do  you  sleep  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  know  ?  "  murmured  the  wretched  man, 
sinking  back  on  his  chair.  "  What  do  you  say  ?  What  do 
you  mean  ? "  She  came  yet  more  forward  into  the  vague 
light  of  the  window.  Her  face,  with  its  aureole  of  golden 
hair,  standing  out  from  the  dark  indistinctness  of  her  cloth- 
ing, seemed  to  him  like  an  angel's,  without  corporeal  frame. 
Mevrouw  van  Hessel  stood  back  in  the  shade  by  the  door. 

"How  do  you  sleep?"  repeated  Agatha,  vehemently. 
"  Can  you  sleep  ?  I  do  not  speak  to  you  of  the  misery,  the 
utter,  unfathomable  ruin  you  are  bringing  upon  the  inno- 
cent man,  upon  me,  his  wife,  upon  us  all  who  love  and  cher- 


DAS  EWIG   WEIBLICHE  ZIEHT   UNS  niNAN.       213 

isli  liim.  I  do  not  wish  to  dwell  upon  them.  They  must 
be  present  with  5'-ou  night  and  day,  in  your  dreams,  in  your 
waking  thoughts  for,  after  all,  you  are  a  human  being  and 
have  a  human  heart,  even  although — but  no,  I  am  not  come 
to  reproach  you.  You  must  be  too  miserable  to  need  any 
reproach  from  me.  And  as  for  mij  cause,  for  my  husband's 
— oh,  however  I  long  to  obtain  his  deliverance,  I  would 
leave  it  in  the  hands  of  the  God  Avho  has  said  :  '  Vengeance 
is  mine  ;  I  will  repay ! ' " 

She  stopped  a  moment,  but  it  was  only  to  gasp  for 
breath.  The  bowed  .and  broken  man  before  her  gave  a 
faint  groan  but  never  moved. 

"  It  is  of  yourself  I  would  speak,"  said  Agatha,  softly. 
"  Of  your  own  hopes,  your  fears,  the  conscience  that  lives 
within  you.  Why  do  you  do  this  thing  ?  All  the  misery  it  is 
bringing  upon  others  ;  all  the  misery  it  has  brought  and  still 
will  bring  upon  yourself — is  it  worth  it  ?  You  are  young 
still,  like  the  man  you  injure.  You  suffer  already.  I  can  see 
it ;  I  thank  God»f  or  it.  He  is  more  merciful  to  you  even  now 
than  you  know.  But  the  twinges  of  conscience  you  feel  at 
this  moment  are  as  nothing  to  the  remorse  which  later  years 
will  bring.  As  the  years  pass  on,  carrying  this  brief  life 
away  with  them,  as  you  grow  older  and  wearier  and  see 
pleasures  fade  away  in  air  Avhich  now  still  attract  you,  as 
you  watch  death  and  its  awful  certainty  of  judgment  draw- 
ing nearer,  miserable  man,  what  an  agony  Avill  be  yours  !  " 
Her  voice  faltered.  She  steadied  it.  "  I  tremble,"  she 
went  on,  "  Avlien  I  think  of  the  future  you  are  preparing  for 
me.  It  is  almost  too  horrible  to  think  of.  But  I  tremble 
yet  more,  when  I  turn  to  the  future  you  are  preparing  for 
yourself,  even  on  this  earth,  and  in  the  eternal  retribution  be- 
yond. I  dare  not  let  my  thoughts  dwell  upon  it.  Oh  God, 
have  mercy  upon  this  most  wretched  man  ! "  8he  burst 
into  tears. 

"  I  j)lcad  for  myself,"  she  said   more  caliidy,  as  soon  as 


214  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

she  could  speak.  "  So  be  it,  I  have  a  right  to  claim  my 
clue.  And  I  tell  you  that  you  have  lied,  and  still  lie,  in  the 
sight  of  Heaven,  that  you  are  lying  away  a  good  man's,  an 
innocent  man's  Avhole  life.  I  can  not  ask  what  are  your 
motives.  Whatever  they  are,  they  shrink  away  too  miser- 
ably into  nothing  before  the  horror  of  your  deed.  Men  tell 
me  you  want  money.  Poor  fool,  had  you  come  to  us,  we 
could  have  given  it  you  !  Poor  fool,  had  the  world's  wealth 
been  offered  you,  it  would  not  have  been  worth  the  agony 
which  God  Himself  has  already  set  gnawing  at  your  heart. 
What  are  you  seeking?  Happiness?  Pleasure?  Eiijoy- 
ment?  They  will  go  from  you  forever  with  the  setting  of 
to-morrow's  sun ! " 

Jan  Lorentz  raised  his  head.  "  Go  !  "  he  said,  huskily. 
"  Go  !  Wlioever  you  are,  have  mercy  upon  me  I  Go  !  I 
can't  change  anything  now.     It's  too  late." 

"  Oh  let  me  plead  with  you,"  cried  Agatha — so  near  that 
her  clasped  liands  almost  touched  his  shoulder.  "  For  my- 
self, if  you  will,  and  for  you !  For  you,  most  of  all.  You 
are  delivering  over  my  husband  to  an  earthly  tribunal.  You 
will  see  him  stand  there  to-morrow  and,  knowing  him  to  be 
innocent,  will  see  him  condemned.  And  for  me  that  means 
many  years  of  suffering :  thirty,  forty,  jDerhaps,  if  it  be 
God's  will,  but  they  will  end,  and  God  will  approve  us  inno- 
cent. But  you — you  are  delivering  up  yourself;  yourself, 
your  own  heart  and  soul  tliat  you  love,  the  eternal  within 
you  ;  you  are  delivering  up  yourself — perhaps  in  thirty  years, 
perhaps  in  forty,  perhaps  in  an  hoiir  from  this  moment  to 
the  judgment-seat  of  Almighty  God  !  " 

There  was  a  ring  of  real  grief  in  her  voice  and  even  of 
compassion  tliat  thrilled  through  the  poor  villain  whom  she 
addressed  She  believed  what  she  was  saying  with  all  the 
strength  of  her  being.  She  pitied  him.  In  the  midst  of  her 
own  terrible  anxiety  and  sorrow,  she  pitied  him,  even  him,  the 
man  who  had  wronged  her  so  cruelly.    He  felt  it  with  a  pang 


DAS  EWIG  WEIBLICHE  ZIEIIT  UNS   IIINAN.       215 

of  inexpressible  sliame.  He  believed  what  she  was  saying  to 
him ;  his  own  heart's  experience  already  bore  it  out.  His 
anger  had  died  down  from  the  moment  he  first  saw  his  old 
love  once  more  looking  at  him.  The  tears,  long  strangers 
to  his  eyes,  had  left  his  heart  strangely  tender.  And  now 
there  came  surging  in  upon  it  all  his  fear  and  disajjpoint- 
ment,  all  his  misery  and  remorse.  His  past  life  lay  open 
before  him,  like  a  desert  devoid  of  fruit,  and  the  future 
seemed  to  rise  beyond  it,  black  and  vast  with  eternal  doom. 
It  was  more  than  heart  of  man  could  endure.  He  started 
up  with  a  despairing  shriek.  Its  echo  rang  for  many  days 
in  the  ears  of  his  two  hearers.  And  as  he  uttered  it,  he  fell 
heavily  forward  on  the  floor. 

The  shriek,  piercing,  as  it  did,  through  that  quiet  little 
house,  brought  up  the  two  women  who  had  sat  wondering 
till  then  in  the  little  back-parlor.  Juifrouw  Kaas  had  ceded, 
much  against  her  will,  to  Dientje's  entreaties  that  she  should 
remain  below  and  not  trouble  the  unknown  ladies,  but  those 
entreaties  had  r^cpiired  renewal,  as  it  was,  almost  every  five 
minutes,  and  now,  when  that  cry  broke  the  stillness,  the 
landlady  was  half-way  upstairs  before  Dientje  properly  real- 
ized that  she  had  left  the  room.  So  the  maid  rose  and  fol- 
lowed her. 

The  man  lying  evidently  unconscious,  Mevrouw  van  Iles- 
sel's  practical  energy  asserted  itself.  She  knelt  down  by 
him  and  raised  his  head  immediately ;  she  would  have  got 
him  on  to  the  bod  with  her  daughter's  help,  had  not 
Juffrouw  Kaas  come  running  in  before  she  could  do  so. 
Juffrouw  Kaas  had  certainly  made  a  pretense  of  knocking 
at  the  door  on  her  way,  but  she  had  not  paused  one  instant 
for  an  answer.  "  I  thought  murder  was  going  on  here," 
she  gasped,  with  her  fat  hand  on  her  ample  bosom.  "  Oh 
dear  ladies.  1  thought  he  was  murdering  you  !  "  Juffrouw 
Kaas  had  never  run  upstairs  so  fast  in  her  life. 

As  she  choked  over  the  words  a  moonbeam,  emerging 


21G  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

from  a  cloud,  fell  full  into  the  little  room.  The  sky  was 
clearing.  In  the  bright  light  the  fat  little  tobacconist  im- 
mediately recognized  the  Burgomaster's  wife.  She  dropped 
a  courtesy.  "  Mevrouw,  the  Burgomaster,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Dear,  dear,  to  think  of  it !  Mevrouw,  the  Burgo- 
master !  " 

Madame  van  Hessel  rose  from  her  knees.  She  took 
hold  of  the  amazed  Juffrouw  by  her  fat  shoulders  and 
walked  her  incontinently  out  of  the  room.  Dientje  stood 
on  the  landing,  uncertain  what  might  be  desired  of  her. 
Mevrouw  called  her  in,  and  then  shut  the  door  and  turned 
the  key  upon  Juffrouw  Kaas. 

"  We  can't  have  any  extra,  unnecessary  trouble,"  she 
said.  "  Heaven  knows  we  have  quite  enough  already  with- 
out that." 

Together  the  three  women  moved  Jan  Lorentz  on  to  his 
bed,  and  Mevrouw  van  Hessel,  producing  a  small  scent- 
bottle,  rubbed  his  forehead  and  hands  with  eau-de-cologne 
and  water.  After  a  few  moments  he  moved,  heaved  a  deep 
sigh,  and  opened  his  eyes.  They  rested  immediately  on  one 
of  the  three  faces  anxiously  bending  over  him.  "  Dientje," 
he  said  in  an  awe-struck  whisper.  She  shrank  back.  An 
expression  of  such  anguish  came  into  the  sick  man's  face 
that  Agatha,  putting  her  arm  round  her  maid's  waist,  once 
more  gently  drew  her  forward.  Jan  Lorentz  lay  still,  gazing 
at  her  for  several  minutes.  To  her  they  seemed  hours.  At 
last  he  said,  still  in  a  very  feeble  voice :  "  I  forget  how  it 
was.  I  think  I  must  have  fainted.  I  think  it  was  an  angel 
told  me  not  to  sin  against  God,  and  I  was  frightened." 

It  sounded  almost  childlike  in  its  simplicity,  coming 
from  that  guilty  man.  No  one  disturbed  his  thoughts,  and 
gradually  the  truth  came  back  upon  him.  "  I  have  been 
dizzy  like  that  once  or  twice  before,"  he  said,  "and  my 
brain  goes  round.  It's  the  wretched  drink.  Oh,  God,  if  I 
could  escape  from  the  drink !     It  has  made  a  devil  of  me." 


THE  VERDICT.  217 

"  No,  no,"  said  Agatha.  "  Do  not  speak  like  that !  Oh, 
let  me  tell  you !  There  is  pardon  for  you  !  There  is  mercy ! 
Oh  mother,  how  gladly  I  would  speak  to  him,  if  it  did  not 
seem  as  if  I  were  goading  him  on  to  destroy  his  own  earthly 
happiness,  that  my  husband's  and  mine  might  be  saved." 

Jan  Lorentz  did  not  seem  to  hear  her.  He  was  lying 
with  his  old  love's  hand  clasped  tight  in  both  his  own. 

"  The  angel  was  right,  Dientje,"  he  murmured.  "  I  be- 
lieve that  God  sent  her  to  me.  I  must  not  be  my  own  ac- 
cuser before  the  judgment  seat  of  God." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    VERDICT. 

"  Silence  !  "  cried  the  usher,  settling  his  broad  orange 
scarf  as  he  spoke.  The  presiding  judge  took  up  one  of  the 
documents  lying  before  him.  A  nervous  thrill  of  expecta- 
tion ran  through  the  vast  concourse.  The  prisoner  knitted 
his  eyebrows  slightly.  It  was  noted  with  some  surprise  that 
Kees  van  Hessel  was  not  present,  as  he  had  been  all  through 
the  day  of  the  trial. 

The  judge  began  to  read  the  verdict  in  a  shrill  voice,  full 
of  abortive  attempts  at  impressivcncss.  It  was  a  long  docu- 
ment, comprising  several  folio  pages  and  giving,  first  an 
accurate  summary  of  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  then  a  full 
exposition  of  the  legal  consequences  the  deed  must  involve. 
Seven  minutes  were  spent  over  the  descriptions  in  the  first 
part ;  the  President  cleared  his  throat  and  coughed  solemnly 
as  he  turned  over  page  after  page.  At  last,  however,  long 
after  every  one  was  tired  of  hearing  facts  enumerated  which 
most  men  by  this  time  had  unwillingly  learnt  by  heart — at 
last  the  legal  part  of  the  document  was  reached.    The  Prcsi- 


218  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

dent  laid  down  the  paper  and  blew  his  nose.  Then  he 
ghired  round  at  the  expectant  crowd  before  him,  took  off  his 
spectacles,  wiped  them,  resettled  them  carefidly  over  his 
eyes,  glared  round  again  at  the  public  and  resumed  his  read- 
ing. The  prisoner  uncrossed  his  legs,  and  then  crossed  them 
again.  Much  of  what  the  President  read  was  a  repetition 
of  the  address  of  the  Advocate-General  on  the  day  of  the 
trial.  The  same  charges  of  ingratitude  and  avarice  were 
brought  against  Joost.  Full  attention  was  accorded  to  the 
testimony  of  Jan  Lorentz,  the  principal  witness.  It  was 
supplemented  by  that  of  the  Notary  and  the  Doctor.  And 
taking  all  things  into  consideration,  and  reckoning  that  the 
motives  for  tlie  deed  and  the  circumstances  immediately 
connected  with  it,  everything,  in  fact,  but  the  actual  com- 
mission of  the  crime — had  been  confessed  by  the  prisoner, 
the  Judges  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were  justified 
in  declaring  that  the  necessary  legal  evidence  had  been  sup- 
plied, and  on  the  ground  of  that  evidence,  and  all  that  had 
come  to  their  knowledge  in  connection  with  it,  they  found 
the  prisoner  "  Guilty  of  Murder." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AFTER    THE    VERDICT. 

As  the  concluding  sentences  rolled  forth  sonorously 
from  the  President's  lips,  a  commotion,  which  had  been 
increasing  for  the  last  few  minutes  at  the  entrance  to  the 
judgment  hall,  assumed  such  proportions  that  it  attracted 
attention  from  those  who  sat  higher  up.  People  began  to 
look  round  and  to  cry  "  Hush  !  "  Oi:ie  or  two  of  the  judges 
themselves  looked  across,  and  the  youngest  of  them,  bend- 
ing sidev/ays  over  his  armchair,  spoke  to  the  colleague  who 


AFTER  THE  VERDICT.  219 

sat  next  to  him.  The  President  looked  nervously  to  the 
right  and  left,  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  but  read  on, 
his  rubicund  face  growing  purple.  He  had  reached  the 
last  words  of  the  verdict ;  the  declaration  of  the  prisoner's 
guilt  had  already  passed  his  lips ;  nothing  now  remained 
but  the  sentence  :  "  Find  the  accused  to  be  guilty  of  mur- 
der," read  the  President,  "  and  accordingly — " 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  a  shrill  voice  from  the  back  of  the  hall. 
"  Stop !     Stop  !     Don't  sentence  an  innocent  man  !  " 

The  President  involuntarily  checked  himself  and  glared 
over  his  paper.  All  eyes,  even  the  prisoner's,  were  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  principal  entrance.  Men  started  up 
from  their  seats ;  those  at  the  back  jumped  on  to  the  benches 
and  looked  over  their  neighbors'  shoulders.  In  the  con- 
fusion one  or  two  chairs  were  upset  with  a  crash  ;  exclama- 
tions of  sudden  irritation  or  curiosity  broke  forth  on  all 
sides.  A  wave  of  hushed  sound  and  checked  movement 
passed  over  the  vast  assembly.  Men  were  restraining  them- 
selves still  urider  the  influence  of  the  place  and  the  occa- 
sion, but  the  decorum  of  the  court  of  law  was  broken  for 
the  moment.  The  prisoner — his  view  obstructed  by  those 
who  had  risen  behind  him — sank  back  on  his  wooden  bench 
and  shielded  his  eyes  with  one  hand.  • 

"  Silence !  "  said  the  little  President,  in  high  indigna- 
tion. 

But  no  one  heeded  him.  For  all  were  gazing  at  the 
lanky  figure  of  Jan  Lorentz,  struggling  with  two  police- 
men, just  within  the  entry. 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Jan  Lorentz,  in  the  same  shrill,  ex- 
cited voice.  "  Let  me  speak  while  I  dare.  He  is  innocent ! 
I  have  lied  against  him  !     Let  me  speak !  " 

"  Let  him  speak !  "  cried  a  chorus  of  voices  from  vari- 
ous parts  of  the  building.  The  President's  renewed  call 
for  silence  was  ovorbonie  in  the  protest.  Even  the  judges 
who  sat  next  to  him  were  agitated  by  a  human  curiosity. 


220  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

which  iuducctl  them  to  half  rise  from  their  chairs.  A  knot 
of  gentlemen  ronnd  the  combatants  by  the  entrance  forcibly 
rescued  the  man,  who  was  struggling  and  shouting  with 
what  weak  strength  he  had,  from  the  hands  of  his  assail- 
ants, and  bade  him  go  on  to  the  front  in  God's  name !  And 
others  in  the  body  of  the  hall,  alternately  making  way  for 
him  and  pushing  him  forward,  bore  him  up  on  a  wave  of 
excitement  to  the  very  feet  of  the  President.  He  arrived, 
gasping  for  breath,  his  shabby  clothes  torn,  his  face  white 
and  haggard,  his  eyes  staring  in  front  of  the  dais,  by  the 
side  of  Joost  Avelingh. 

The  President  was  an  old  man.  He  had  grown  gray 
in  the  law-courts.  But  he  had  never  seen  such  a  sitting  as 
this.  Aud  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  act.  In  his  anxiety  to 
preserve  his  own  dignity  and  that  of  the  Court,  and  yet  at 
the  same  time  to  do  no  injustice  nor  offend  public  opinion, 
he  hesitated  altogether,  and  looked  from  one  colleague  to 
the  other. 

"  Let  him  speak  !  "  cried  one  or  two  voices  again.  It  was 
simply  curiosity  that  actuated  all  present. 

Jan  Lorentz,  standing  there,  with  his  gaunt  frame 
thrown  forward,  his  lean  hands  clasped  convulsively  round 
the  railing,  to  the  left  of  the  prisoner,  the  whole  man 
trembling  with  emotion  and  struggling  to  find  utterance — 
Jan  Lorentz  availed  himself  of  the  President's  momentary 
indecision,  and  in  the  sudden  silence  he  began  to  speak. 
He  poured  his  words  forth  in  short,  rapid  sentences,  hurry- 
ing on,  as  a  man  hurries  who  does  not  trust  himself  to 
finish  what  he  has  begun. 

"  It  is  false !  "  he  panted,  "  my  evidence  !  He  is  inno- 
cent !  I  did  not  see  it !  I  did  not  say  it !  I  did  not  wish 
to  !  The  Jonker  asked  me  !  And  he  said  I  had  said  it ! 
And  it  was  all  a  mistake !  And  no  one  let  me  go  back  J 
And  I  hated  Mynheer  Avelingh  !     But  he  is  innocent !  " 

The  young  judge  at  the  further  end,  forgetful  of  all 


AFTER  THE  VERDICT.  221 

propriety,  started  up  and  ran  around  to  the  President. 
The  one  between  them  also  turned  his  head,  and  a  hurried 
confabulation  took  place.  The  President  made  a  rapid 
sign  of  assent,  and  addressed  the  man  standing  before  him. 

"  As  you  have  said  so  much,"  he  squeaked,  frowning  se- 
verely, "  you  may  as  well  say  more,  and  explain,  though  you 
can  not  excuse,  your  most  unseemly  interruption.  What 
have  you  to  tell  ?  " 

"  I  never  saw  Mynheer  Avelingh  draw  the  handkerchief 
round  his  uncle's  throat,"  replied  Lorentz  more  collectedly. 
"  No,  so  help  nie  God ;  all  the  time  I  was  looking  through 
the  glass  in  the  hood  I  never  saw  him  touch  his  uncle  at  all." 

"  Man ! "  said  the  President  impatiently,  "  take  care  what 
you  are  doing.  Justice  does  not  allow  herself  to  be  played 
with.  If  you  liave  received  money  to  come  and  tell  this 
story,  you  are  not  only  a  scoundrel  but  a  fool." 

The  President  was  not  a  shrewd  judge  of  men,  despite 
his  position.  For  it  did  not  require  much  insight  to  per- 
ceive that  thift-one  was  undoubtedly  sincere. 

"  I  am  telling  the  truth,"  cried  Jan  Lorentz  anxiously. 
"  I  am,  at  last !  I  can't  help  it !  Oh  gentlemen,  for  the 
love  of  God  in  Heaven,  don't  make  it  harder  for  me  than 
it  is." 

A  murmur  of  sympathetic  approval   ran   through  the 

hall. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  asked  the  President,  "  that  you, 
fully  realizing  the  consequences  of  what  you  are  doing,  per- 
sist in  your  declaration  that  you  have  borne  false  witness  in 
this  court  in  the  case  of  the  Crown  against  Joost  Avelingh  ?" 

Lorentz  began  trembling  violently.  He  supported  him- 
self against  the  balustrade  by  an  cfEort,  and  slowly  gasped 
out — 

"  It  is  true.     Yes." 

Low  as  the  words  were,  there  was  scarcely  a  man  in  the 
hall  ])ut  heard  tlifin,  amid  that  breathless  silence. 


222  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"And  Avelingli  is  innocent?"  cried  a  voice  from  the 
gallery. 

Jan  Lorentz  bowed  his  head  in  acquiescence.  It  dropped 
forward  on  his  hands. 

The  Counsel  for  the  accused  started  up.  "  I  give  notice 
of  Appeal  to  the  Supreme  Court,"  he  said.  He  scarcely  knew 
what  he  was  saying.  How  could  he  remember  he  had  no  right 
to  say  it  then  ? 

A  shout  rang  through  the  hall.  Then  another  !  And 
another  !  Men  started  up  on  the  benches  and  chairs  again, 
and  waved  their  pocket-handkerchiefs,  and  cheered.  These 
phlegmatic  Dutchmen,  roused  out  of  their  habitual  apathy, 
broke  forth  in  an  enthusiasm  they  would  have  been  ashamed 
to  confess.  It  was  too  wonderful,  the  awful  certainty,  the 
sudden  hesitation,  the  rapid  light  and  shade!  And  now 
the  deliverance  !  The  hearts  of  the  spectators  boiled  over. 
They  cheered.  They  scarcely  knew  whom  they  were  cheer- 
ing ;  Jan  Lorentz  or  Joost  Avelingh  ? 

The  President  rose,  purple  with  passion.  "  This  must 
end,"  he  cried,  "  immediately  !  Arrest  that  man  !  I  sus- 
pend the  sitting !     Clear  the  Court ! " 

After  all,  nothing  was  proved  as  yet ;  nothing  was  even 
changed.  The  judges,  to  a  man,  disbelieved  this  improbable 
story.  The  witness  had  been  tampered  with;  or  he  was 
mad,  or  drunk.  He  would  retract  to-morrow,  and  get  off 
with  a  comparatively  mild  puiiishment  for  contempt  of 
court. 

But  the  public  thought  differently.  One  of  those  inex- 
plicable, unreasonable  waves  of  feeling  which  perplex  those 
who  govern  nations  swept  suddenly  over  the  vast  crowd  that 
had  been  present  at  the  scene  just  enacted.  The  reaction 
was  the  greater  because  of  the  opprobium  which  had  been 
heaped  on  the  prisoner.  Without  pausing  to  ask  whether 
Jan  Lorentz's  statement  really  did  away  with  the  charge 
against  the  man  already  condemned  as  a  murderer,  the  mul- 


AVELINGH   V.  AVELINGH,  223 

titude,  full  of  the  imexj^ected  words :  "  He  is  innocent !  "  ac- 
quitted him  in  its  own  mind,  and  would  have  released  him 
where  he  stood.  Some  confused  account  of  what  was  going 
on  inside  the  building  spread  rapidly  to  the  thousands  out- 
side, and  the  foolish  cry,  "  Long  live  Joost  Avelingh  !  "  once 
started,  no  one  knew  how,  was  taken  up  and  repeated  again 
and  again  by  the  populace.  Gentlemen  of  high  ^^osition 
pressed  forward  round  the  prisoner,  as  he  was  being  led  away 
in  custody,  and  shook  hands  with  him.  Kees  liessel,  who 
had  come  down  with  Jan  Lorentz,  struggled  toward  his 
brother-in-law  and  threw  his  arm  around  his  neck. 

"  I  knew  you  were  innocent,  Joost,"  he  sobbed,  "  but  I 
did  not  expect  to  hear  others  re^aeating  it !  You  are  inno- 
cent !     Hear  them  !     You  are  innocent !  " 

"  God  alone  knows,"  said  Joost  Avelingh. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

AVELINGH    V.    AVELINGH. 

Several  weeks  elapsed  after  Jan  Lorentz's  confession, 
none  of  the  principal  actors  in  the  tragedy  could  ever  ex- 
actly tell  how.  Joost  Avelingh  had  been  taken  back  to  his 
cell,  there  to  await  the  result  of  the  action  brought  by  the 
Crown  against  the  perjurer.  For  the  value  of  the  latter's 
retraction  must  be  carefully  tested  before  the  appeal  in  the 
earlier  case  could  come  on.  The  Magistrates — the  legal 
world  generally — were  of  opinion  at  first,  that  the  witness's 
original  story  was  the  true  one,  and  that  the  explanation  he 
now  gave  had  been  put  into  his  mouth  by  the  friends  of  the 
murderer.  And  to  the  objection  that  he  would  then  be  ly- 
ing away  his  own  liberty,  they  merely  replied  that  even  that 
sacrifice  miglit  easily  have  been   made  worth  his  while  by 


224  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

people  wlio  were  as  rich  as  the  Avelinghs.  To  obtain  such 
a  result,  a  man  or  woman  possessed  of  millions  would  will- 
ingly spend  hundreds  of  thousands  in  any  case,  and  many 
a  man,  especially  a  young  one,  would  gladly  undergo  several 
years  of  confinement  with  the  ho23e  of  a  fortune  at  the  close. 
It  was  a  difficult  matter.  If  the  man  stuck  to  his  state- 
ment, it  would  be  impossible  to  convict  Avelingh,  even 
though  the  judges  might  feel  confident  the  statement  was  a 
false  one.  But  the  proceedings  for  the  charge  of  perjury 
must,  in  any  case,  come  on  first. 

This  was  the  opinion  of  the  authorities  and  the  legal 
luminaries.  But  the  world  at  large  did  not  take  their  view 
of  the  matter.  It  had  got  into  its  head  that  it  had  ill-used 
Avelingh,  and  so  it  veered  round  to  the  other  extreme  and 
made  much  of  him.  It  may  be  confidently  affirmed  that  it 
would  have  acted  exactly  in  the  same  manner,  whether  the 
accused  man  was  actually  guilty  or  not,  for  the  world,  as  we 
all  know,  lives  by  impressions,  and  public  oj^inion  seldom 
does  a  thing  by  halves.  The  men  who  had  been  present 
during  Lorentz's  confession  had  very  generally  accepted  its 
sincerity,  and  it  was  they  who  spread  the  story  far  and  wide. 
And  that  same  evening,  in  spite  of  one  or  two  warning 
voices  here  and  there,  the  country  had  declared  for  Joost. 
A  large  number  of  newspapers  hung  back  at  first,  undoubt- 
edly, but  that  was  because  their  earlier  opinions,  unlike 
those  of  the  changeable  crowd,  had  the  disadvantage  of  still 
being  there  to  bear  witness  against  them,  and  they  shrank 
from  disproving  all  the  subtle  arguments  of  the  day  before 
yesterday.  But,  the  23i'ess  being,  after  all,  quite  as  much  the 
slave  as  the  master  of  that  spoilt  overgrown  child  "  The 
Public,"  it  was  not  long  before  "  our  more  judicious  readers  " 
began  to  find  out "  that  we  have  always  drawn  attention  to  the 
weak  points  in  the  prosecution."  And,  having  once  got  so 
far,  it  was  easy  for  the  radical  "  Cry  of  the  People "  to  at- 
tack the  legal  institutions  of  the  country,  which  made  it  so 


AVELINGH    V.   AVELINGH.  225 

simple  a  matter  to  condemn  an  innocent  man.  It  was  not 
only  that  insignificant  organ,  however,  that  fell  foul  of  the 
magistrature.  The  "  Cry  of  the  People,"  when  it  goes  forth, 
must  always  be  raised  against  some  scapegoat  or  other,  and, 
Jan  Lorentz  being  more  or  less  interesting  on  account  of 
his  "martyrdom  of  virtue,"  it  was  evident  that  only  the 
authorities  remained  to  be  blamed.  Everybody  who  was 
angry  with  himself  for  having  originally  taken  a  wrong  view 
of  the  case — that  is  to  say,  almost  every  inhabitant  of  the 
country  above  the  age  of  fifteen — abused  the  examining 
judge  and  the  Advocate- General  for  having  led  his  judgment 
astray.  Somehow,  everybody  forgot  to  call  the  newspapers 
to  account,  probably  because  those  papers  themselves  were 
now  engaged  in  the  campaign  with  such  laudable  vigor. 
And  so  public  discontent,  after  having  wandered  from  one 
to  another — like  a  ball  on  a  bagatelle  board — finally  settled 
down  in  its  favorite  little  hole :  the  "  Police." 

Joost  Avolingh  sat  in  his  prison-cell.  The  authorities 
were  angry  wkh  him  for  having  "  through  his  |)erversity," 
as  they  put  it,  brought  discredit  upon  them,  and  the  severi- 
ties of  prison  discipline  were  but  little  relaxed.  They  allowed 
him  to  see  his  wife  once  or  twice,  in  the  presence  of  a  ward- 
er, and  he  learned  from  her  lips  how  she  had  been  the 
means  of  saving  him.  He  learned  also  that  his  innocence 
had  already  obtained  credence  with  all  but  the  magistrates. 
And,  in  the  revulsion  of  feeling  he  perhaps  realized  more 
fully  what  an  agony  there  had  lain  for  his  sensitive,  love- 
loving  nature  in  the  hatred  and  wrath  of  a  nation  risen  uj) 
against  him.  Few  men  pass  through  the  ordeal,  few  men 
would  be  morally  so  unfit  for  it  as  Joost  Avelingh.  It  has 
been  said  of  him  that  his  nature  in  his  youth  "  wanted  to  be 
put  out  in  the  sunshine."  At  least,  so  it  ever  seemed  to  him 
and  his  friends.  But  the  Supreme  Wisdom  that  ruled  his 
life  decided  otherwise,  and  lie  passed  through  the  very 
blackness  of  night. 


226  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

Coming  out,  then,  as  from  a  tunnel,  blinded  with  the 
sudden  radiance,  his  heart  leaped  ujj  and  staggered  within 
him.  During  all  those  weeks  of  prolonged  suffering,  the 
physical  side,  so  to  call  it,  had  scarcely  troubled  his  repose. 
The  imprisonment,  the  restraint,  the  deprivations,  he  had 
hardly  counted  these  at  all.  His  ordeal  had  been  altogether 
a  moral  one,  and,  besides  the  inevitable  separation  from  his 
wife,  it  was  in  the  judgment  which  the  world  had  passed 
upon  him  that  his  torture  liad  asserted  itself,  as  his  punish- 
ment woidd  have  lain  there,  had  the  law  finally  condemned 
him.  It  seemed,  then,  when  once,  in  the  silence  of  his  cell 
at  evening,  he  heard  a  passing  street-boy  call  out ;  "  Long 
live  Joost  Avelingh  !  "  that  the  windows  of  Heaven  fell 
open  and  filled  the  dark  earth  with  light.  It  was  not  that 
he  cared  for  the  silly  cry  and  the  ej^hemeral  popularity  it 
brought  him,  but  that  in  the  thought  that  once  more  his 
fellow-men  esteemed  and  honored  him  he  drank  as  it  were 
the  new  wine  of  life. 

Had  he  a  right  to  such  esteem  and  honor  ?  He  could, 
perhaps,  scarcely  have  told  himself.  In  the  novel  delight  of 
living  which  came  over  him  during  these  wonderful  days  he 
would  certainly  have  answered  yes,  but  he  would  not  have 
accounted  to  himself  for  the  answer.  The  circumstances  of 
the  trial  had  worked  a  great  change  in  his  nature,  subvert- 
ing to  a  certain  extent  his  ideas  of  right  and  wrong.  A 
man  does  not  pass  through  such  an  experience  and  come 
out  unharmed.  He  had  learned — he  would  have  been  sur- 
prised, had  he  known  how  unexpectedly  and  how  thorough- 
ly— what  a  difference  there  is  between  calling  one's  self  a 
sinner  and  being  called  a  sinner  by  the  law.  He  knew  well 
enough  that  he  was  not  a  good  man.  Above  all,  he  had 
had  weighing  upon  him  for  many  years  the  half-admitted 
consciousness  of  a  great  transgression.  He  had  played  with 
it,  and  mourned  over  it,  and  repented  and  done  penance 
for  it.     He  had  been  miserable  over  it  just  with  that  amount 


AVELINGH   V.   AVELINGII.  227 

of  misery  wliioh  makes  a  man  interesting  to  himself,  and 
contented  with  the  working  of  his  own  conscience.  He  was 
not,  he  told  himself,  as  the  mass  of  men  around  him  who 
sinned  carelessly  and  smilingly  on  without  pausing  to  de- 
plore their  weakness.  And  his  own  "  soul-suffering,"  his 
"  expiation,"  his  "  inmost  weariness," — perfectly  sincere  as 
they  ever  remained — were  not  unpleasing  to  him,  for  they 
seemed  to  him  like  a  patent  of  his  soul's  nobility,  creden- 
tials which  assigned  him  a  superior  rank  among  God's  creat- 
ures, that  something  divine  within  the  best  and  bravest 
which  brings  them  comfort  in  the  triumphant  knowledge 
that  they  who  most  aspire  most  often  go  astray. 

It  will  readily  be  believed  that  Joost  Avelingh  himself 
had  not  realized  these  considerations  which  were  actuating 
him.  It  would  have  been  absurd  to  expect  him  to  do  so. 
He  realized  the  result.  He  was  unhappy,  so  sincerely  and 
earnestly  unhappy  that  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  avoid 
reflection,  he  had  once  or  twice  in  inevitably  quieter  mo- 
ments been  bi;eught  face  to  face  with  the  idea  of  suicide, 
and  had  not  recoiled  from  it.  His  love  for  Agatha— and 
perhaps  still  more,  her  love  for  him — had  struck  down  the 
thought  to  the  ground. 

He  had  confessed  his  sin  to  God,  he  told  himself,  and 
obtained  no  pardon  for  it.  He  had  striven  to  expiate  it  in 
the  sight  of  Heaven,  and  the  expiation,  returning  as  a  ball 
thrown  upward,  had  brought  him  honor,  gratitude,  praise ; 
and,  as  if  a  curse  had  rested  on  it,  the  good  he  had  striven 
to  do  had  changed  to  evil.  He  had  held  out  his  gold  to 
the  sick  and  the  necessitous,  and  it  had  turned  to  ashes  in 
his  hand.     The  fault  was  not  his,  but  God's. 

Then  came — as  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear  sky,  in  spite 
of  all  his  self-deception — the  accusation  of  murder.  What 
he  thought,  what  he  believed,  what  he  felt  in  the  first  mo- 
ment of  that  discovery,  he  never  could  explain  in  after 
years.  Not  God,  not  his  own  tender  conscience,  not  the 
o 


228  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

lifelong  grief  that  gnawed  at  his  heart — others,  rough,  rude 
voices,  the  police,  the  law,  the  j^ress,  the  whole  world,  accused 
him  of  a  crime,  accused  him  of  the  worst  crime  of  all,  mur- 
der.    Was  the  accusation  rational  ? 

They  did  not  come  upon  him,  mind  you,  and  tell  him 
without  further  preface,  that  he  had  deliberately  strangled 
his  uncle  with  a  neckerchief.  Had  they  done  so,  his  exjye- 
riences  might  have  been  different.  It  is  hard  to  say.  But 
when  he  first  learned  in  the  repose  and  fancied  security  of 
his  own  home,  sitting  there  quietly  in  his  study-chair  be- 
tween wife  and  friend  that  a  "  serious  charge  had  been 
brought  against  him,"  his  first  impression  naturally  was  that 
there  must  be  some  mistake.  For — in  spite  of  the  long 
schooling  of  his  heart  to  one  idea,  or  perhaps  just  on  ac- 
count of  the  fixed  form  in  which  that  idea  had  thus  been 
cast — he  could  see  no  connection  between  his  own  accusa- 
tions of  himself  and  such  as  the  law  might  bring  against 
him.  Or  it  may  be  presumed  that  he  just  saw  enough  con- 
nection— for  one  moment — to  exj^lain  a  passing  confusion 
and  then  clearly  sejiarate  the  ideas  forever.  In  an  instant's 
flash  of  thought — quicker  than  any  visible  spark — the  fancy 
crossed  his  brain  that  God  might  have  taken  up  arms 
against  him  ;  but  the  next  moment  he  remembered  that  God 
does  not  grant  such  revelations  of  His  justice.  Knowing, 
therefore,  that  such  accusations  as  he  might  whisper  against 
himself  could  not  be  the  same  as  those  the  world  would 
bring  forward,  his  mind  turned  to  other  jiossibilities  and, 
after  wildly  grasping  at  the  recollection  of  all  the  pecula- 
tions in  connection  with  his  charitable  grant  (not  that  he 
was  to  blame  in  that  matter),  desisted  in  despair  and  truth- 
fully declared  itself  utterly  at  sea. 

Then  came — a  few  minutes  later  ;  but  a  few  minutes  are 
often  a  long  period  in  the  story  of  a  soul — the  express 
charije  of  murder.  It  was  that  word  which  flashed  across 
his  brain  the  thought  of  a  divine  revelation  and  brought  to 


AVELINGH   V.   AVELINGH.  229 

his  lips  the  hesitating  words  or  "angels"?  with  which  ho 
had  greeted  the  police-officers  to  Kees  Hessel's  amazement. 
"  Or  angels,"  remarked  the  younger  policeman  to  his  com- 
rade when  they  found  themselves  alone.  "What  foolish 
things  some  of  these  criminals  say,  to  be  sure  ! " 

Joost  Avelinsfh  now  found  himself  thrown  into  utter 
confusion.  lie  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  law  could  not 
accuse  him  of  murder.  At  least,  he  had  always  taught  him- 
self to  believe  that  it  could  not,  whatever  doubts  may  some- 
times have  crossed  his  mind  on  the  subject.  lie  had  often, 
undoubtedly,' bi-Dught  terrible  accusations  against  himself, 
and,  sitting  there  as  judge,  jury,  prosecutor,  witness,  and 
defendant,  had  never  come  to  a  satisfactory  verdict.  He 
had  grown  accustomed  to  the  case  of  "  Avelingh  against 
Avelingh  " ;  it  had  become  quite  a  part  of  his  existence.  It 
dragged  on  forever,  and  he  could  not  well  have  got  on  with- 
out it,  though  ho  paid  the  costs  with  the  peace  of  his  soul. 
*'  The  Crown  against  Avelingh  "  was  a  very  different  matter. 
"  The  world  ag;ainst  Avelingh  "  Avas  agony  indeed. 

He  was  rescued  from  the  confusion  into  which  he  had 
fallen  by  the  specification  of  the  charge  of  murder  which  had 
been  brought  against  him.  He  found  himself  confronted 
with  Jan  Lorentz  ;  he  heard  the  man's  story ;  he  was  asked 
whether  he  pleaded  guilty  or  not  guilty.  He  could  give  but 
one  answer,  and  he  gave  it  immediately,  and  persevered  in  it 
all  through  the  trial.  He  was  not  guilty.  Whatever  accu- 
sations a  too  sensitive  conscience  might  sometimes  suggest, 
tills  charge  of  willful  murder  was  absurd,  scandalous ;  an 
infamy.  His  lieart  gathered  strength  at  the  thought.  Fool 
that  he  had  been  to  dream  of  God's  retribution,  here  was  he 
brought  face  to  face  with  an  outrageous,  libelous  attack  upon 
his  good  name  and  fame.  He  owed  it  to  himself,  to  his 
wife,  to  society  itself  to  defend  himself  with  all  the  means 
in  his  power.  Summoned  to  confess,  he  refused  with  right- 
eous scorn.     He  turiied  upon  the  witness  and  told  him  that 


230  JOOST   AVELINGH. 

he  lied,  as  lie  did.  He  repeated  haughtily  and  consistently, 
that  the  charge  was  a  slander,  that  he  was  innocent  of  the 
deed  it  attributed  to  him.  He  could  not  do  otherwise  ;  he 
was  perfectly  Justified  in  doing  what  he  did. 

And  so  complicated  are  these  hearts  of  ours  in  their  per- 
ceptions, that  it  remains  true — as  has  already  been  said — 
that  Joost  Avelingh,  in  spite  of  the  grief  of  separation,  in 
spite  of  the  agony  of  general  opprobium  he  was  enduring, 
found  cause  for  comfort  and  rejoicing  in  these  days  of  dis- 
tress. Can  a  man  be  happy  and  wretched  at  the  same  time  ? 
The  rational  answer  is  No.  And  yet  Joost  Avelingh,  when 
he  came  out  of  prison  with  a  sjirinkling  of  gray  over  his  Jet- 
black  hair,  could  only  tell  that  for  some  thoughts  and  at 
some  moments  the  happiest  experience  of  his  life  had  come 
to  him  in  a  cell.  As  the  certainty  of  his  condemnation 
grew  more  manifest,  the  undercurrent  of  elation,  indigna- 
tion, protestation,  self-glorification — call  it  what  you  will ; 
it  was  something  of  all  four — broadened  through  his  soul. 
It  was  a  new  feeling  to  be  accused  unjustly,  to  know  that 
there  was  nothing  in  his  heart  deserving  such  persecution, 
to  endure  to  a  certain  extent  the  martyrdom  of  injured  in- 
nocence. It  was  a  new  thing  to  be  a  far  better  man  than  the 
world  acknowledged,  and  it  brought  its  peculiar  compensa- 
tions. Before  the  trial  was  over,  Joost  Avelingh  felt  better 
satisfied  with  himself  than  he  had  ever  felt  before  in  his  life. 
It  was  the  one  great  result  which  his  ordeal  produced,  at  first, 
at  any  rate.  The  slow  evolution  of  feeling  had  been  too  con- 
tinuous to  be  suddenly  annihilated  by  the  unexpected  conclu- 
sion, Eather,  it  found  itself  confirmed  by  the  voice  of  pub- 
lic opinion.  He  came  out  of  prison  at  peace  with  himself 
and  the  world.  All  his  little  self-accusations  had  faded 
into  the  glaring  light  of  the  prosecution  for  willful  murder. 
He  stood  out  in  that  white  light,  and  men  cried :  "  He  is 
innocent ! "  Joost  Avelingh  did  not  echo  the  cry,  but 
he  accepted  it.     And  the  voice  of  the  people,  recognizing 


AVELINGn   V.   AVELINGII.  231 

again  his  claim  to  esteem,  was  inexpressibly  sweet  in  liis 
ears. 

He  went  back  to  his  wife,  when  at  last  the  prison  doors 
were  opened,  with  a  love  for  her  in  his  heart  such  as  he  had 
never  felt  before.     It  is  not  necessary  to  ask  whether  it  was 
greater,  whether  there  was  more  of  it ;  it  was  different.     If 
he  had  contented  himself  till  then,  in  his  intellectual  pride, 
Avith  thinking  that  a  man's  love  to  his  Avife  must  be  all  ten- 
derness and  petting,  he  could  no  longer  deny  Agatha  that 
element  of  respect  and  admiration  which  he  had  till  now 
unconsciously  withheld.     She  had  achieved  a  claim  to  his 
lasting  gratitude  which  his  heart  must  bend  to  admit.     It 
did  so  most  willingly,  most  gladly,  but  it  bent  none  the  less. 
He  need  not — he  did  not — love  her  for  what  she  had  done ; 
he  had  always  loved  her ;  but  now  in  his  love  was  irresistibly 
intermingled  the  memory  of  the  debt  he  owed  her,  and  that 
love  Avas  beautified  and  elevated  by  the  thought.    "  Not  such 
a  great  thing  after  all,"  may  be  said,  but  it  was  great  enough, 
if  deeds  are  esiimated  by  their  consequences.     And  it  Avas 
great  in  its  devotion,  in  its  courage,  and  most  of  all  in  its 
mastery  of  a  human  soul.     Joost  Avelingh  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  various  influences  Avhich  had  effected  the  altera- 
tion of  Lorentz — and,  in  truth,  Agatha's  coming  had  been 
but  as  the  fall  of  a  stone  in  a  brimming  cup — to  the  hus- 
band it  was  his  wife  who  had  saved  him,  and  there  was  heav- 
en in  the  thought.     It  Avas  she  who,  by  the  words  she  had 
spoken,  by  the  thoughts  to  which  those  Avords  gave  utter- 
ance, had  vanquished  as  vile  a  heart  as  ever  lied  on  earth. 
It  Avas  she  Avho,  when  all  others  stood  back  careless  or  pow- 
erless, she  the  Avoman,  avIio  had  stepped  forward  and  achieved 
Avhat  neither  her  brother  nor  the  laAvyer  would  even  attempt. 
When  she  came  to  him  in  the  governor's  sitting-room,  upon 
his  liberation,  he  could  only  fold  her  to  his  bosom  and  clasp 
Ikt  there  in  silence.     But   it  was  some   days  later,  as  he 
wiilkcd  slowly  up  and  doAvn  hi&  study  in  his  old  accustomed 


233  JOOST  AVELINUn. 

manner,  revolving  many  things,  that  he  suddenly  stopped 
before  Agatha,  and  bent  over  lier  hand  and  kissed  it.  And 
she,  looking  up  into  his  face  and  smiling,  was  astonished  at 
the  look  of  tender  reverence  she  read  there.  But  she  never 
guessed  the  meaning  of  that  kiss. 

Supposing  that  formerly  he  had  loved  her  for  her  beauty 
only — though  that  would  be  but  a  very  one-sided  way  of  ex- 
plaining his  affection — it  would  have  been  all  the  more  de- 
sirable that  his  feelings  should  undergo  a  change.  For  her 
beauty,  in  spite  of  her  youth,  had  not  remained  uninjured 
by  the  sufferings  she  had  gone  through.  She  had  never 
been  as  lovely  as  Joost  thought  her,  but  the  pure,  sweet, 
somewhat  haughty  expression  of  her  fair  face  had  a  great 
charm  in  it ;  and  that  it  would  always  retain.  "  She  is  very 
much  aged,  nevertheless,"  said  her  acquaintances.  "  It  is 
wonderful  what  a  few  weeks  will  do.  She  must  have  felt 
terribly  cut  up  about  the  whole  matter.  Poor  thing !  "  Her 
eyes  had  acquired  a  troubled  expression.  There  were  hard 
lines  here  and  there  about  the  mouth  and  forehead,  and 
there  was  gray — as  with  Joost— in  the  masses  of  golden  hair 
her  husband  and  mother  were  so  2:)roud  of.  Everybody 
called  upon  her  again  now,  and  everybody  told  her  that  they 
had  wanted  to  come  and  comfort  her  all  along,  but  had 
dreaded  being  thought  indiscreet.  "  I  assure  you,  my  dear, 
I  had  ordered  the  carriage  the  very  instant  I  first  heard  the 
terrible  news,"  said  one  lady,  "  but  my  husband  came  and 
told  me  he  was  sure  you  would  rather  be  left  alone.  '  If 
my  wife  were  being  tried  for — were  arrested  like  that,'  he 
said,  '  I  am  sure  I  should  not  like  j'Ou  to  come  bothering 
me.'  Wasn't  it  unkind  of  him,  my  dear?  So  I  just 
changed  my  mind  and  drove  to  the  pastrycook's.  And  I  was 
so  sorry  for  you ;  I  could  not  sleep  all  night  for  thinking  of 
you,  though  Everard  said  it  was  the  tarts.  Men  are  so  un- 
feeling ;  are  they  not.  Mynheer  Avelingh '? " 

Joost  had  become    an  object  of   the  greatest  interest. 


"LIBERTY   LOST   AND    KEGAIXED."  233 

People  asked  him  imj)ertinent  questions,  which  he  did  not 
answer.  He  turned  on  his  heel  once  or  twice,  very  abrupt- 
ly, and  left  some  fair  catechizer  all  perplexed  in  the  middle 
of  the  room.  Decidedly,  Joost  was  not  destined  to  shine  in 
polite  society.  "  I  can't  understand,"  the  parish  clergyman's 
Avife  complained  to  MevrouAV  Verrooy.  "  I  only  asked  him 
what  his  favorite  text  had  been  in  prison,  and  he  stared  at 
me  with  those  great  eyes  of  his  and  said  it  was  very  warm. 
He  is  not  an  agreeable  man.  I  do  so  hope,  for  his  poor 
wife's  sake,  that  confinement  has  not  affected  his  head." 

Agatha  sat  and  received  her  visitors  and  was  amiable  to 
them.  She  was  grateful,  too,  that  they  should  make  much 
of  Joost,  and  she  tried  hard  to  convince  herself  that  they 
had  acted  with  superfine  delicacy — a  delicacy  not  properly 
appreciated  at  first  sight,  you  know,  but  easily  intelligible, 
if  you  give  your  whole  mind  to  it — in  not  coming  to  see  her 
in  the  days  of  her  distress.  She  found  herself  uncharitably 
hard  to  convince. 


CHAPTt:R   XXVIII. 

"  LIBERTY    LOST   AND    REGAINED." 

But  before  Joost  Avelingh  could  be  liberated  Jan  Lo- 
rentz  had  to  be  condemned.  The  thought — although  he 
admitted  its  seriousness — did  not  much  troul)lc  Joost,  for  in 
the  long  solitude  of  his  confinement  he  had  learned  to  con- 
sider the  false  witness  with  feelings  of  overwhelming  hatred 
and  contempt.  Can  it  be  wondered  at  ?  When  they  fetched 
him  from  his  cell,  it  was  to  confront  him  with  this  creature, 
who  coolly  stood  there  lying  away  all  that  made  life  endura- 
ble. So  thought  Joost;  and  the  wrong  tlins  done  him  was 
so  unfathomable  that  he  could  not  but  hate  the  man,  even 
while  he  desf)isod  him.     It  is  not  true,  by  the  way,  surely  it 


234  JOOST  AVELINGn. 

is  not  true,  though  it  has  been  often  repeated,  that  hatred 
and  scorn  can  not  mingle  together  in  our  thoughts  of  one 
and  the  same  person  ?  However  tliat  may  be,  Joost  Ave- 
lingh  felt  too  intense  an  aversion  suddenly  to  pity  the  per- 
jurer when  the  confession  of  his  crime  had  been  wrung  from 
him.  He  considered  that  he  but  received  what  he  merited ; 
and  the  more  he  recalled  his  past  wickedness  the  more  he 
appreciated  Agatha's  victory  in  bringing  the  scoundrel  to 
book. 

For  Agatha  the  circumstances  were  different.  She  also  had 
good  reason  to  shrink  from  all  sympathy  with  Lorentz,  but 
she  could  not  forget  her  last  sad  im2:)ression  of  him,  received 
on  the  night  before  the  verdict.  It  still  seemed  to  her  as  if 
she  saw  the  wretched  garret  with  the  moonbeams  shifting 
across  it  and  playing  over  the  bed  on  which  he  lay.  She 
could  not  forget  the  misery  on  his  pale  face  and  in  his  bro- 
ken voice.  She  had  watched  him  there  through  the  whole 
anxious  night,  first  with  her  mother,  then  with  Kees,  who 
had  been  sent  for  to  join  them  and  take  down  the  guilty 
man's  deposition,  and  from  first  to  last  with  Dientje.  Jan 
Lorentz  had  lain  through  the  greater  part  of  the  time  with 
his  fingers  tightly  clasped  round  his  old  love's  hand,  gazing 
at  her  as  if  he  would  drink  his  fill  of  her  face,  and  murmur- 
ing occasionally  some  words  of  self-disparagement.  Not  of 
endearment ;  he  would  never  have  allowed  himself  to  give 
utterance  to  these.  The  woman  had  passed  beyond  him, 
irretrievably ;  none  the  less  could  he  cherish  and  honor  the 
thought  of  her.  Ho  was  not  ill ;  that  is  to  say,  his  weak- 
ened frame  did  not  feel  weaker  than  yesterday,  but  tlie 
storm  which  had  been  sweeping  over  his  spirit  during  the 
last  few  days  and  had  now  culminated  in  this  renunciation, 
had  left  him  prostrate  in  mind  and  in  body.  He  was  inex- 
pressibly weary,  as  a  man  after  the  crisis  of  a  fever.  But  he 
was  also  out  of  danger.  In  the  fight  in  his  soul  the  right 
side  had  Avon. 


"LIBERTY  LOST  AND   REGAINED."  235 

Beggared,  broken  in  health,  utterly  forlorn  and  misera- 
ble, and  now  tormented  by  the  stings  of  conscience,  what 
could  he  do  but  give  up  the  struggle  ?  He  had  always  re- 
tained his  fierce  grudge  against  Joost,  but  it  had  never  been 
his  intention  to  bear  false  witness  against  him,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  dislike,  the  possible  injury  to  the  accused  soon  out- 
grew any  vengeance  he  might  have  reckoned  on.  It  was 
true,  as  he  said,  that  he  had  been  unconsciously  led  into 
making  his  original  statement,  and  that  he  had  never  in- 
tended to  do  so.  He  was  not  a  sufficiently  bad  man  to  wish 
to  deliberately  ruin  the  happiness  of  several  innocent  lives, 
if  he  came  to  think  out  the  subject.  The  hope  of  gain,  and 
the  desire  to  free  himself  from  a  disagreeable  dilemma,  had 
probably  actuated  him  in  the  beginning,  and  also,  quite  as 
much  as  both  these,  the  fear  of  going  back  on  the  state- 
ment he  was  once  reported  to  have  made.  How  he  had  first 
made  it  he  did  not  clearly  remember.  His  impression  was 
that  van  Asveld  had  tricked  him  into  it,  knowing  it  to  bo 
untrue,  but  thwein  he  wronged  the  Jonker,  who  had  merely 
read  his  own  thoughts  too  readily  from  the  lips  of  another, 
and  who  firmly  believed,  even  after  the  condemnation  of 
Lorentz,  that  the  man  had  been  bought  over  for  a  small  for- 
tune by  Agatha  Avelingh. 

Brought  face  to  face  with  his  lie  in  all  its  nakedness  and 
barrenness,  Jan  Lorentz  could  not  continue  to  play  a  part  he 
had  from  the  first  been  but  loath  to  undertake.  He  betrayed 
himself,  and,  once  discovered,  was  a  lost  man,  as  far  as  keep- 
ing up  false  appearances  went.  Not  that  he  immediately 
desired  to  sacrifice  his  liberty.  His  surrender  was,  perliaj)s, 
at  first  more  the  result  of  moral  and  physical  weakness  than 
of  any  higher  resolve.  It  is  always  more  or  less  difficult  to 
tell  a  lie  consistently,  and  this  liar's  staying  power  gave  out. 
But  also,  it  must  be  admitted,  his  heart  was  not  in  it.  He 
was  not  a  sufTiciently  bad  man  not  to  desire  to  be  a  better. 
And  when  the  wave  of  c()nvi(;ti(>n  rolled   in  upo)i   him,  it 


23G  JOOST  AVELINGII. 

struck  against  no  granite  rock.  He  went  down  before  it 
from  debility  as  much  as  from  deliberate  choice.  But  he 
was  almost  glad  when  he  was  down. 

That  did  not  mean,  however,  that  he  bore  gladly  the 
consequences  of  his  deed.  Nor  were  they  such  as  men  ac- 
cept lightly,  whatever  may  be  their  consciousness  of  guilt. 
In  that  never-ending  night  when  he  poured  forth  his  broken 
confessions,  exculpations,  entreaties  to  the  sympathetic,  si- 
lent women  by  his  bedside,  his  hand  clasping  that  of  his  old 
sweetheart,  he  had  often  faltered  and  shrunk  away  with 
sudden  indecision.  And  even  then  when,  having  spoken, 
he  fell  back  and  lay  still,  but  for  an  occasional  murmur,  he 
had  realized  with  terror  what  his  self-surrender  meant.  But 
the  sequence  of  his  action  swept  down  upon  him,  irresist- 
less  from  the  first.  He  bowed  his  head,  and  did  not  try  to 
resist  it. 

But  gradually,  with  the  rest  his  avowal  brought  him  and 
the  knowledge  of  doing  right,  now  inseparable  from  his 
misfortunes,  courage  and  a  certain  contentment  came  back 
to  the  man.  He  went  through  the  trial  for  perjury  victo- 
riously, even  though  it  ended,  as  it  inevitably  must,  in  his 
condemnation  to  a  long  term  of  imprisonment.  One  bright 
point,  which  Agatha  timidly  pointed  out  to  him,  he  seized 
with  avidity,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  it  till  it  illuminated  the 
darkness.  This  imprisonment  would  give  him  an  opportu- 
nity, such  as  he  could  nowhere  else  have  found,  of  escaping 
from  the  power  of  the  drink.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  with  God's 
help,  there  is  that  to  live  for.  And  when  I  come  out  of 
prison,  Dient jo ?  When  I  come  out  of  prison?"  He  lin- 
gered wistfully  over  the  words.  She  drooped  her  eyes  to 
the  ground  and  did  not  answer.  There  was  no  need  to  un- 
deceive him  now,  should  she  so  wish  it.  And  many  years 
would  pass  before  he  saw  the  sun  again. 

In  the  course  of  his  examination  Jan  Lorentz  admitted 
that  he  had  told  a  lie  at  first,  had  adhered  to  it  through  the 


"LIBERTY  LOST  AND  IlEGAINED."  237 

inquiry,  and  sworn  it  during  the  trial.  He  liad  not  seen 
Joost  touch  his  uncle  on  the  night  of  the  old  man's  death. 
But  he  pleaded,  truthfull}-,  that  he  had  never  intended  to 
say  so  in  the  beginning,  and  that  the  story  had  been  forced 
upon  him,  somehow,  by  van  Asveld.  The  Jonker,  called  to 
explain  this,  pooh-poohed — also  truthfully — the  idea,  and 
swore  that  his  first  doubt  of  Jan  Lorentz's  sincerity  had 
arisen  on  the  day  when  the  verdict  was  given.  The  judges 
believed  him,  and  absolutely  disbelieved  Lorentz,  for  van  As- 
veld was  a  gentleman  and  the  prisoner  a  self-avowed  liar.  It 
went  very  much  against  the  accused  that  he  thus  tried  to 
explain  away  his  guilt  and  lay  the  blame  on  another  man's 
shoulders. 

Had  he  seen  nothing,  then,  he  was  asked,  from  his  place 
in  the  dickey  ?  And  it  came  out  that  he  had.  Had  it  not 
been  so,  he  would  probably  never  have  told  even  his  trumped- 
up  story  at  the  trial.  He  had  seen  Joost  clench  the  reins 
tightly,  and  drive  on  as  if  hell  and  death  were  pursuing  him 
— as  they  were:  It  was  this  he  had  been  about  to  tell  Ar- 
thur when  the  latter's  impetuous  conviction  led  his  thoughts 
astray. 

And  he  had  seen  more.  For  he  had  seen  that  the  old 
Baron  himself,  when  he  fell  back  in  the  chaise,  clutched  at 
the  neckerchief  round  his  throat  and  fumbled  at  it  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  the  dying  man's  hands  fell  to  his  knees,  and 
the  cloth  remained  uidoosed.  Had  he  tiglitened  it  in  his 
hurried  efforts  to  unfasten  the  knot  ?  Probably  that  was 
what  lia<l  occurred.  The  doctor  repeated  his  original  state- 
ment. Wlien  cjilled  to  see  tlie  corpse,  he  found  evidences  of 
strangulation.  They  were  not  sufficient  to  prove  death  from 
that  cause.  As  a  rule,  the  symptoms  of  strangulation  were 
unmistakable.  That  was  not  the  case  with  the  deceased. 
The  deceased  hud  been  dead  "  about  half  an  hour."  1'here 
had  been  no  post-mortem  examination.  Tliere  ouglit  to 
have  been.    He  could  not  say  deceased  had  died  from  straiigu- 


238  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

lation.  He  thought  it  highly  improbable  he  had  done  so. 
It  was  impossible  to  speak  positively.  As  doctors  talk,  una- 
ble, after  all,  to  look  before  and  after,  however  good  their 
will  may  be.  There  was  hardly  a  medical  man  in  the  coun- 
try who  did  not  vehemently  impugn  Doctor  Kern's  evidence, 
and  declare  that,  if  lie  had  been  called  to  view  the  body  he 
would  have  been  able  to  accurately  diagnose  the  state  of  af- 
fairs. Every  tyro  could  see  whether  a  man  had  died  from 
strangulation  or  a  fit.  "  Or  from  both? "  asked  Doctor  Kern 
sardonically. 

And  so  the  j)rison  doors  closed  upon  Jan  Lorentz.  And 
the  world  forgot  him.  Only  two  women  in  it,  though  they 
never  breathed  his  name  to  one  another,  remembered  him  in 
their  prayers.  And  God  remembered  him  ;  and  the  Lord 
Christ  came  to  him  in  his  solitary  cell. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 
A  "lettee  de  faire  part." 

JoosT  AvELiiSTGH  was  once  more  at  the  Castle.  The 
June  election  had  swept  by  and  was  a  thing  of  the  past.  It 
was  true  that  Jopst's  name  had  been  brought  forward  as  a 
candidate  here  and  there  in  the  past  winter,  but  nothing 
positive  had  been  decided  upon,  and  his  brother-in-law  may 
have  given  too  loose  a  rein  to  a  naturally  sanguine  tempera- 
ment when  he  spoke  with  such  assurance  of  his  chances. 
Whatever  these  may  have  been  originally,  by  the  time  the 
electioneering  campaign  came  on  Joost's  name  was  envel- 
oped in  a  whirlwind  of  obsecration.  It  swept  by ;  and  be- 
fore the  end  of  May  he  was  liberated  and  restored  to  his 
rank,  but  then  other  candidates  had  been  nominated,  and 


A   "LETTRE  DE   FAIRE  PART."  239 

the  election  was  at  the  very  door.  Joost  never  even  remem- 
bered it.     He  had  other  things  to  think  of,  assuredly.  ' 

Gradually,  however,  he  returned  to  his  occupations,  and 
the  first  painful  impression  wore  oil.  He  resumed  the  man- 
agement of  his  estate ;  he  took  his  place  again  at  his  numer- 
ous committee  meetings.  The  men  of  his  class  were  much 
more  cordial  to  him  than  formerly.  It  seemed  as  if  every 
one  were  anxious  to  make  up  to  him  for  wrong  thoughts  of 
him  in  the  past.  The  Supreme  Court  had — unwillingly  and 
ungraciously — acquitted  him  ;  and  society,  angry  with  itself 
for  having  believed  in  the  guilt — the  criminal  guilt,  be  it 
remarked — of  one  of  its  members,  did  all  that  it  could  to 
atone  to  him  for  its  injustice.  The  common  people  of  the 
neighborhood  merely  returned  to  their  allegiance ;  they  had 
cause  enough  to  feel  grateful  to  Joost.  Wherever  he  came, 
he  was  received  sympathetically.  He  went  out  more  "  dans 
le  monde^''  and  people  said  :  "  He  was  really  not  so  bad  when 
you  got  to  know  him.  And  they  had  certainly  treated  him 
ill,  poor  felloff ! "  The  first  time  he  drove  into  the  chief 
town  of  the  province  he  was  recognized ;  and  a  small  crowd 
— largely  composed  of  street-boys — cheered  his  carriage. 

He  also  resumed  his  charities,  and  now  dispensed  them 
more  openly  than  formerly.  There  was  no  more  of  the 
shamefaced  attempt  to  buy  off  his  conscience ;  he  had  come 
to  look  upon  these  matters,  as  has  been  said,  in  a  different 
light.  And  for  that  reason  he  admitted  Agatha  into  his 
confidence,  and  they  talked  his  plans  over  together,  to  her 
groat  delight.  Till  then  he  had  excluded  her,  from  no  mo- 
tives of  unkindness,  but  because  he  told  himself  he  had  no 
right — nor  she  either — to  draw  any  pleasure  or  profit  from 
such  perfunctory  benevolence.  He  was  less  sensitive  now. 
The  trial  had  hardened  him.  And  he  resolved  henceforth 
"  to  do  good  and  fear  naught," — not  even  himself. 

So  he  slipped  into  the  position  of  a  wealthy,  beneficent, 
active  and  prosperous  country  gentleman.     He  kept  liis  per- 


24:0  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

sonal  tastes  more  in  the  background  in  his  intercourse  with 
those  who  did  not  share  them,  and  it  was  noticed  that  he 
had  lost  in  prison  tlie  boisterous  and  unnatural  bursts  of 
gayety  which  had  made  Liederlen  liken  him  to  a  hyena.  He 
was  never  outrageously  funny  now. 

Large-handed  charity  is  not  of  common  occurrence.  It 
is  more  frequent,  jDerhaps,  in  Holland  than  in  most  coun- 
tries, for  it  must  be  admitted  of  the  Dutch  that,  with  all 
their  faults,  they  are,  on  the  whole,  a  generous  people,  will- 
ing to  alleviate  sulfering  where  they  can,  and  to  dispense 
hospitality,  as  the  nations  of  Europe  have  good  cause  to  re- 
member. I>ut  even  in  Holland  a  munificent  man  stands 
out  as  a  harbor-light,  to  which  all  the  shipwrecked  on  life's 
solemn  main  immediately  direct  their  course.  Joost  Ave- 
lingh's  post-bag  brought  him  a  daily  batch  of  begging  let- 
ters, some  of  them  heart-rending,  some  of  them  side-split- 
ting, all  of  them  full  of  faultless  misfortune.  He  attended 
to  an  inordinate  number,  and  Kees  Hessel,  who  would  have 
shared  his  last  crust  with  a  beggar,  said  that  from  a  politico- 
economical  point  of  view  his  brother-in-law  did  far  more 
harm  than  good. 

One  morning  a  paper  with  a  deep  black  border  lay 
among  the  other  letters  on  the  breakfast  table.  Joost  tossed 
it  to  his  wife  unopened.  "  Cards  for  somebody,"  he  said,  as 
he  took  up  a  newspaper.  It  sounded  a  little  heartless,  per- 
haps, but  had  the  loss  been  in  his  own  immediate  circle  of  ac- 
quaintances, he  would  have  heard  of  it  before  receiving  the 
"  lettre  de  faire  part."  Agatha  unfolded  the  paper  and  read 
out  with  some  astonishment  the  demise  of  an  old  clergyman 
in  a  village  in  the  North  of  Holland,  a  man  perfectly  un- 
known to  her.  "  My  beloved  husband,  Hieronymus  Helle- 
vaer,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three,"  said  Agatha.  "  Poor  old 
lady !  And  who  is  the  Eight  Reverend,  Very  Learned  Heer, 
Dominus  Hieronymus  Hellevaer,  Joost?" 

"  Hellevaer,"  said  Joost  thoughtfully,  laying  down  his 


A  "LETTRE   DE  FAIRE  PART."  241 

paper,  "  Ilellevaer,  Hellevaer."  I  can't  remember  tlie  name. 
But  I've  heard  it  somewhere,  all  the  same.  Let  me  see  " — 
a  sudden  expression  of  displeasure  passed  over  his  face— 
"  Oh  yes,  I  know  now,"  he  said.  "  Certainly,  that  was  the 
name  of  the  clergyman  wdio  was  present  at  my  father's  death 
and  who — who  sent  me  to  my  uncle.  It  is  the  same,  I  sup- 
pose. Did  he  live  till  now?  He  must  have  been  very  old, 
I  should  think.     Where  do  they  write  from  ?  " 

"  Eighty-three,"  replied  Agatha.  "  From  Tjumstjump- 
eradeel." 

"  What  a  name .?  "  said  Joost.  "  He  must  have  got  an- 
other parish.     It  was  at  Overveer  that  my  father  died." 

They  went  on  with  their  breakfast  in  silence.  Presently 
Joost  said,  a  little  bitterly  "  Poor  man,  he  did  me  a  bad 
service.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  forgive  him.  He  meant  it 
for  the  best." 

"  It  was  for  the  best,  after  all,  surely,  Joost,"  said 
Agatlia. 

He  looked^at  her  for  a  long  time  with  a  vacant,  dreamy 
look,  without  answering.  Then  he  said :  "  Do  you  know, 
Agatha,  what  my  father  wanted  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

"  No  Joost.     How  should  I  ?     You  never  told  me." 

"  He  wanted  to  send  me  to  the  orphan  asylum." 

"  To  the  orphan  asylum  ?     My  dearest !  " 

"  My  father  was  a  wise  man,  Agatha.  Perhaps  it  would 
have  been  better." 

He  cast  a  glance  over  the  lofty  room  in  which  they  were 
sitting,  wdth  its  oak-carvings  and  frescoed  walls,  and  out  at 
the  great  windows  over  the  broad  meadow  in  front  of  the 
house  and  the  green  woods  beyond.  It  was  a  lovely  August 
morning,  glittering  with  light  and  balmy  with  approaching 
heat.  The  smell  of  tlic  roses  came  in  under  the  striped 
awning. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  bettor,"  he  said.  He  said 
it  drcamingly,  questioningly,  and,  as  the  words  left  his  lips. 


242  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

liis  coaclimaii  knocked  at  the  door  and  came  in  to  ask 
for  orders  —  as  Dutch  coachmen  do  toward  the  end  of 
breakfast. 

"  You  must  go  over  to  the  dealer's  this  morning,"  began 
Joost  in  a  practical  tone.  "  You  can  take  the  bay  filly,  and 
warn  him  that  I  won't  keep  the  new  pair,  if  the  off-horse 
shies  again  at  the  steam-tram  as  she  did  yesterday.  And  if 
you  come  across  the  steward,  send  him  np  and  tell  him  to 
bring  the  estimate  with  him  for  that  wall  at  the  back  of  the 
lower  lane  cottages.  Is  there  anything  he  can  get  you  from 
the  village,  Agatha?" 

He  lounged  away  to  the  window  and  remained  standing 
there  till  the  man  was  gone.  Perhaps  he  remembered  his 
uncle's  Avarning  that  it  was  not  a  little  thing  to  give  up  all 
this. 

It  seemed  as  if  his  return  to  liis  old  surroundings  after 
the  sudden  deprivation  which  he  had  undergone,  had  awak- 
ened within  him  a  greater  taste  for  luxury,  or,  at  any  rate,  a 
greater  enjoyment  of  it  than  he  liad  felt  before.  It  had 
never  been  his  weakness  to  take  especial  pleasure  in  such 
beauty  as  only  money  can  buy ;  he  had  always  delighted  in 
the  fields,  and  the  woods,  the  birds  and  the  sunshine,  such 
enjoyments  as  God  gives  to  all.  He  appreciated  them  now 
with  a  keener  relish  after  the  close  confinement  he  had  suf- 
fered, but  he  also  began  to  notice  more  the  comforts  and  ad- 
vantages which  only  wealtli  can  bestow :  the  great  house 
with  its  beautiful  old  furniture,  the  stables,  the  gardens, 
even  the  well-appointed  and  well-furnished  dinner-table. 
The  difference  with  his  plank  bed  and  a  little  pannikin  of 
weak  pea-soup  was  too  great  for  human  flesh  not  to  linger 
complacently  over  it,*     He  was  not  a  luxurious  man,  far 

*  It  may  surely  be  doubted — in  the  interests  of  equality — whether 
it  is  just  to  suppress  those  arrangements  by  which  criminals  of  the 
better  class  are  enabled  to  procure  themselves  food  a  trifle  superior  to 
the  common  prison  fare. 


A   "LETTRE  DE   FAIRE  PART."  243 

from  it,  but  lie  realized  as  lie  had  never  done  before,  what  a 
difference  there  is  between  affluence  and  penury,  between 
comfort  and  privation.  He  clung  also,  more  than  had  been 
his  wont,  to  the  old  house  for  its  own  sake ;  he  wandered 
through  the  woods  and  said,  not  only :  they  are  beautiful, 
but  also :  they  are  mine  ! 

"  It  is  difficult  to  forget,"  he  said,  when  the  servant  was 
gone,  still  staring  out  of  the  window,  "  and,  whatever  they 
may  say,  it  is  difficult  to  forgive." 

Agatha  looked  a  little  puzzled.  "  Surely  you  do  not  feel 
you  have  anything  to  forgive  that  poor  old  man,  Joost  V  " 
she  said.  She  was  washing  up  the  tea-things.  The  Dutch 
use  costly  porcelain  as  a  rule — brought  from  Japan  and  the 
Dutch  Indies,  often  a  couple  of  centuries  ago,  when  they 
still  made  fine  porcelain  over  there — and  Dutch  housewives 
invariably  look  after  it  themselves. 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  the  Domine,"  *  said  Joost.  "  I 
was  thinking  of  my  uncle." 

Agatha  put~down  her  little  fringed  towel  and  went  up  to 
her  husband.  She  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  he, 
looking  moodily  down  on  it,  askance,  from  where  he  stood 
close  against  the  window,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he 
noticed  once  again  the  frequent  gray  hairs  among  her  thick 
golden  tresses. 

"  Are  you  angry  with  his  memory  still  ? "  she  asked 
softly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  grimly.  "  I  hate  him  even  now.  I  have 
always  hated  him.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  always  hated  him. 
Look  at  the  wrong  he  has  done  me,  and  you." 

"  Not  me,"  she  said  in  surprise.  "  lie  would  have,  per- 
haps, if  he  could.  But  he  was  prevented.  It  is  Avonderful 
to  think  how  he  was  prevented.  If  it  were  not  that  it  looks 
as  if  one  rejoiced  at  his  death,  I  have  often  thought  that 

*  Minister. 


24A:  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

God  bronglit  you  and  me  together  in  a  very  special  manner, 
Joost." 

Joost  did  not  answer. 

"  And  so  you  must  forgive  your  uncle  for  the  sake  of 
that." 

"  He  always  wronged  me,"  said  Joost,  "  and  therefore  I 
suppose  I  must  always  have  hated  him.  It  may  be  un- 
christian, but  it  is  very  natural.  I  can  not  remember  his 
doing  anything  for  me,  or  with  me,  unless  it  was  to  make 
me  wretched."  He  shuddered.  "  He  must  have  been  a  very 
bad  man,  Agatha,"  he  said. 

"  I  did  not  like  him,  certainly,"  replied  Agatha,  frankly. 
"  He  was  very  cross  and  disagreeable,  and  I  could  not  for- 
give him  for  being  unkind  to  you,  Joost." 

He  caught  at  the  expression,  for  his  mind  was  full  of  it. 
"  Could  not  forgive  him,"  he  repeated.  "  There,  you  see, 
you  say  it  yourself  !  " 

She  nodded  her  head  at  him,  laughingly,  in  spite  of  his 
earnest  tone.  "  Nonsense,  Joost,"  she  said,  "  the  poor  man 
is  dead  ten  years  and  more." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  her  husband  fiercely.  "  I  hate 
his  memory.  He  has  ruined  my  life,  and  I  hate  him  for  it. 
I  am  glad  I  do.    It  makes  some  things  much  easier  for  me." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

DOCTOR   AVELINGH'S   THEORY. 

Barely  a  fortnight  after  the  arrival  of  the  "  lettre  de 
faire  23nrt,''^  Joost  Avelingh  found  a  thick  packet  in  the 
post-bag  bearing  the  same  postmark :  Tjumstjumperadeel. 
He  opened  it,  and  a  closed  envelope  fell  out,  with  a  sheet  of 
notepaper  folded  round  it.     The  sheet  of  notepaper  proved 


DOCTOR  AVELINGH'S  THEORY.  245 

to  be  a  letter  from  the  widow  Hellevaer,  and  the  letter  was 
as  follows  :  "  Highly  ISTobly  Born  Ileer," 

(In  a  land  of  titles,  like  Ilolland,  the  begging  letters  are 
always  extra  polite). 

"Highly  Nobly  Born  Heer, — It  is  a  painful  task 
for  me  to  recall  myself  to  the  recollection  of  your  Noble- 
ness. And  j)erhaps  it  is  wrong  of  me  to  seek  to  do  so,  for  it 
is  more  than  twenty-five  years  ago  since  I  kissed  your  No- 
bleness farewell  in  the  drawing-room  of  Castle  Trotsem. 
But  I  can  not  forget  that  it  was  my  beloved  husband  who, 
having  been  the  friend  of  your  honored  father.  Doctor 
Avelingh,  and  having  received  yon  from  his  hands  in  the 
hour  of  his  death,  was  the  means  of  restoring  your  Noble- 
ness to  your  uncle  the  late  lamented  Baron  van  Trotsem.  He 
and  I  both  rejoiced  ever  since  most  sincerely  at  your  good 
fortune,  and  were  glad  to  think  that  my  dear  husband  had 
been  instrumental  in  preparing  it  for  you.  He  was  taken 
from  me,  by  th«-  inscrutable  decree  of  the  Almighty,  on  the 
fifth  of  this  month  at  thirty-three  minutes  past  seven  in  the 
morning,  and  died  in  peace  of  an  influential  attack  of  the 
chest — he  had  been  asthmatic  of  late  years,  though  other- 
wise in  good  health,  praise  God.  And  while  I  rejoice  that 
he  should  have  been  spared  to  me  so  long,  I  can  not  deny  that 
his  loss  is  therefore  the  greater  trial  to  me.  But  I  will  not 
complain,  knowing  that  it  is  our  duty  to  be  resigned  under  all 
our  afflictions,  which  endure  but  for  a  moment.  I  am  old 
and  shall  not  live  much  longer.  But  at  present  I  am  left 
almost  destitute  and  with  but  few  friends,  most  of  whom  are 
prevented  by  their  own  limited  means  from  assisting  me,  as 
they  would  be  only  too  desirous  to  do.  I  rejoice  to  think 
that  my  dearly  beloved  husband's  intervention  saved  Your 
Nobleness  at  the  time  from  all  the  horrors  of  poverty  and 
public  charity.  Excuse,  Highly  Nobly  Born  Heer,  my  im- 
portunity.    I  found  recently  among  my  husband's  papers 


2iG  JOOST  AVELINGPI. 

some  documents  which  will  probably  have  some  value  for 
your  Nobleness,  and  which  are  of  no  further  importance  to 
me.  I  send  them,  therefore,  to  your  Nobleness,  and  it  is 
the  anxiety  to  let  you  have  them  which  explains  this  letter 
and  must  excuse  it. 

"Hoping  that  your  Nobleness  will  favor  me  with  an 
early  reply,  for,  indeed,  I  sorely  stand  in  need  of  it. — I  re- 
main, Highly  Nobly  Born  Heer,  Your  High  Nobleness's  old 
friend  and  humble  servant, 

"  PlETERXELLA    KiP, 

*'  Widow  of  the  Eight  Reverend  A^ory  Learned  Heer  Domi- 
nus  Hieronymus  Hellavaer." 

Joost  laid  the  letter  down,  Avith  a  smile  over  the  "  influ- 
ential attack,"  and  an  inward  resolve  to  inquire  into  the 
woman's  condition.  And  then  he  turned  to  the  little  par- 
cel of  papers  she  had  sent,  as  an  excuse  for  her  a^jpeal,  it 
must  be  feared. 

He  examined  the  papers  listlessly.  There  were  one  or 
two  letters  from  the  Baron  van  Trotsem,  treating,  as  briefly 
as  possible,  of  business  matters  with  regard  to  the  death  of 
Joost's  father,  funeral  expenses,  sale  of  furniture  and  so 
on.  They  were  yellow  and  faded  with  the  lapse  of  years. 
Then  came  a  fresher  looking  letter,  and,  tied  up  with  it, 
a  sheet  of  tinted  paper,  covered  with  writing  in  a  big  florid 
hand.  A  vague  recollection  of  having  seen  that  document 
before  flashed  across  Joost's  brain,  but  he  could  not  account 
for  it.     He  turned  to  his  uncle's  letter  and  read : 

"  Dear  Domin'e  :  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  letter 
and  inclosure,  which  I  return  as  desired.  It  shall  be  as  the 
man  wished,  but  1  must  efl'ectuate  the  thing  in  my  own 
manner.  I  can  not  endure  to  appear  in  any  way  as  if  I 
carried  out  his  orders.  Nor  can  I  bear  the  thought  that 
the  son  would  probably  immediately  consent  to  do  for  the 


DOCTOR  AVELINGH'S  TKEORY.  247 

sake  of  liis  father,  whom  he  has  never  seen  and  to  whom 
he  owes  hterally  nothing,  what  he  will  refuse  to  do  for  my 
sake,  although  he  is  indebted  to  me  for  all  he  possesses.  I 
am  resolved  therefore  that  he  shall  do  it  for  my  sake,  and 
for  my  sake  only,  and  I  must  request  you  not  to  com- 
municate with  my  nephew  on  the  subject. 

"  Yours,  etc.  Yax  Trotsem." 

Joost  took  up  the  inclosure  alluded  to,  and  glanced  over 
the  first  lines.  He  started,  flushed  up,  turned  to  the  signa- 
ture at  the  back  of  the  paper,  and  began  reading  again. 
The  letter  was  signed :  "  Joost  Avelingh."  He  was  gazing 
at  his  dead  father's  handwriting  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life. 

"  ^Iy  Dear  Hellevaer  " — thus  ran  the  letter — "  Let 
me  remind  you  once  more  of  our  conversation  of  the  other 
evening.  I  repeat  that  it  is  my  earnest  desire,  more  than 
that,  it  is  the  mie  wish  of  my  heart — I  can  scarcely  put  the 
matter  too  strongly — that  my  dear  boy  should  in  time  take  up 
my  profession.  You  laugh  at  my  theory  on  the  subject,  but 
your  laughter  is  accounted  for,  excuse  my  saying  so,  by 
your  ignorance.  Had  you  studied  the  question  as  I  have, 
you  would  judge  differently.  '  Heredity  '  has  always  been 
my  hobby;  my  university-dissertation  treated  mainly  of 
that  subject,  and  I  have  occupied  myself  with  it  ever  since. 
I  feel  sure  that,  if  the  same  profession  were  followed  up 
through  several  generations  with  us,  as  it  is  in  the  East, 
and  as  it  used  to  be  in  Europe,  we,  with  our  modern  oppor- 
tunities of  study,  would  attain  to  an  excellence  never 
dreamed  of  before.  I  flatter  myself  I  am  a  better  doctor 
than  my  father  was,  and  I  feel  confident  that  my  son  will 
in  time  be  a  better  doctor  than  I.  The  difficulty  lies  in  the 
fact,  which  I  liavc  noticed  with  care — I  may  say,  tliat  T 
have  discovered  it,  in  so  far  us  it  is  the  result  of  scientific 


248  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

observatiou — that  sons,  as  a  rule,  after  having  in  their  child- 
hood declared  for  their  father's  profession,  manifest  an  aver- 
sion to  it  in  later  youth.  This  dislike,  natural  enough  and 
easily  exjjlainahle,  for  they  see  all  the  outer  annoyances  and 
none  of  the  inner  com|)ensations,  comes  to  the  front  at  the 
very  time  when  they  are  called  upon  to  make  a  choice,  and 
the  parent,  instead  of  treating  it  as  an  excusable  symj)tom, 
allows  it  to  decide  the  child's  future.  I  have  noticed  ex- 
actly the  same  phenomenon  in  numerous  families.  And 
my  own  little  Joost,  if  you  now  ask  him  what  he  wishes  to 
become  when  he  is  a  man,  will  promptly  tell  you  '  A  doctor 
like  papa.'  By  the  time  he  is  eighteen  or  nineteen  he  will 
most  probably  say,  '  anything  but  a  doctor,'  but,  if  wisely 
guided,  he  will  live  to  thank  his  father's  penetration.  I 
hope  to  sujierintend  his  studies  myself,  but  should  fate  pre- 
vent me  from  doing  so,  I  most  earnestly  entreat  you  or 
whoever  may  have  the  care  over  his  future  life  to  remember 
that  it  was  his  father's  wish,  I  would  almost  say  his  com- 
mand, that  he  should  study  medicine. 

"  Joost  Avelingh." 

The  younger  Joost  read  this  letter  twice  over  with  eyes 
of  immeasurable  amazement.  A  flood  of  memories  swept 
back  upon  him ;  he  must  have  a  moment's  time  to  think 
them  out.  His  father — the  bright  phantom  of  his  infancy, 
the  "  Beauty  "  of  his  childhood,  forgotten  now  for  many 
years,  yet  vaguely  cherished  like  a  moss-hidden  grave — his 
father  stood  out  before  him  again  under  the  full  light  of 
this  letter.  He  cast  a  long  glance  at  the  big  portrait,  en- 
larged from  a  photograph,  which  he  had  caused  to  be  made 
some  years  ago,  and  which  now  hung  over  his  writing- 
table.  His  eye  lingered  over  the  dark  face,  with  its  obsti- 
nate mouth,  and  strong,  energetic  expression.  There  was 
much  in  these  to  remind  you  of  the  son,  but  the  romantic 
part  of  Joost's  nature,  inherited  from  his  mother,  was  al- 


DOCTOR  AVELINGH'S  THEORY.  249 

together  lacking.  Joost  also  liad  his  stock  of  energy, 
though  it  may  have  been  less  prominent  than  his  father's. 
The  members  of  his  various  committees  could  testify  to  its 
being  there. 

The  doctor  had  been  a  headstrong  man,  and  the  letter 
was  a  headstrong  letter.  Joost  remembered  now  where  he 
had  first  seen  that  sheet  of  j^iuk  tinted  paper ;  in  the  Baron's 
hand  on  the  day  when  the  old  man  made  known  his  wishes 
to  him  with  regard  to  his  future  career.  ]\Iany  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  that  interview  now  rose  up  before  him.  He 
took  up  the  two  letters  again,  his  father's  and  his  uncle's 
— and  once  more  read  them  through. 

His  father,  then,  was  responsible  for  that  one  great  in- 
justice which  he  had  always  laid  at  the  Baron  van  Trotseni's 
door.  As  for  the  theory  exposed  in  the  document  he  held 
in  his  hand,  it  was  a  hobby  such  as  all  men  have,  all  medical 
men  especially,  and  the  son  was  to  be  sacrificed  to  it.  He 
did  not  believe  one  moment  in  the  correctness  of  his  father's 
views ;  he  feli  convinced  that,  come  what  might,  he  would 
always  have  felt  tlie  same  unchangeable  aversion  to  a  profes- 
sion, the  material  side  of  which  was  so  especially  distasteful 
in  his  eyes.  His  father  was  wrong,  undoubtedly;  but  all 
that  was  done  now,  and  over.  The  results  remained  only 
as  far  as  his  uncle  was  concerned.  Surely  the  Baron  had 
been  to  blame,  also,  in  assigning  no  reason  for  his  behavior. 
His  letter  certainly  explained  the  motive  that  had  prompted 
him,  and  Joost  could  not  but  admit  that  it  was  an  explain- 
able and  almost  excusable  motive  in  one  with  his  uncle's 
character.  He  knew  how  the  Baron  had  hated  the  doctor, 
also  not  without  cause.  He  was  obliged  to  admit  that  he — 
Joost — had  clung  to  his  father's  memory  and  closed  his 
heart  to  his  uncle.  It  was  the  Baron's  fault,  he  told  him- 
self. The  answer  came  back  immediately  :  "  True,  but  the 
Baron  did  not  realize  that."  And  ho  could  understand, 
however  much  he  regretted  it,  the  frame  of  mind  which  had 


250  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

made  his  uncle  declare :  "  He  must  do  it,  if  his  father  so 
willed  it,  but  he  shall  not  do  it  for  that  father's  sake,  but  for 
miue."  Joost  knew  his  uncle's  character  well  enough  to  rec- 
ognize at  once,  that  it  was  like  the  old  gentleman's  ideas  of 
duty  and  paternal  authority  to  respect  the  dead  doctor's 
wish,  and  that  it  was  as  much  like  his  silent,  vindictive  sur- 
liness to  pretend  that  that  wish  was  his  own. 

But  after  all,  then,  his  father  was  primarily  to  blame  ! 
Joost  found  the  discovery  influenced  his  thoughts  of  that 
dead  parent  more  than  he  had  imagined  it  would  do  at  first. 
However  he  might  withstand  the  charge,  he  felt  the  great 
onus  of  cruelty  gradually  slipping  from  his  uncle's  shoulders. 
He  could  be  angry  with  the  Baron  for  not  telling  him  more, 
if  he  chose  to  be  so ;  he  could  no  longer  be  angry  with  him 
for  not  having  left  him  free  in  the  choice  of  a  profession. 
With  an  impatient  exclamation  he  gathered  up  all  his  papers 
and  went  across  with  them  to  his  Avife.  It  was  but  too  true, 
as  he  had  said  a  few  days  ago,  that  for  him  to  hate  his  uncle 
made  many  things  seem  easier.  It  was  a  comfort  to  think 
he  had  such  good  cause  to  hate  him  still. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

joost's  laboes  for  others  bear  fruit  for  himself. 

"  You  are  to  be  '  High  and  Mighty '  *  after  all,  Joost," 
cried  Kees  Hessel,  panting  behind  his  brother-in-law  in  the 
village  street  of  Heist.  "  I  have  been  all  the  way  up  to  your 
place  to  tell  you  about  it,  but  Agatha  said  you  were  down 
here.     I  left  her  a  high  state  of  glee,  I  can  assure  you." 

I  — ■ ■ — -^■^- — ^^ 

*  Title  officially  given  to  the  Dutch  States-General. 


JOOST'S  LABORS  FOR  OTHERS.  251 

"How  so?"  said  Joost.  "What  has  happened?  Tell 
me  all  about  it." 

"  I'm  awfully  glad  I'm  the  first  man  to  bring  you  the 
news,"  replied  Kees,  recovering  his  breath  and  puffing  away 
at  his  cigar.  "  I  made  sure  some  one  would  have  talked 
about  it  to  you  as  soon  as  I  heard  you  had  gone  to  the 
village.  And  I  like  to  have  the  telling  of  pleasant  tidings 
when  I  can." 

"  Then  tell  them,"  cried  Joost,  laughing.  "  What  has 
happened?     Out  with  it." 

"  This  has  liappened,"  said  Kees  solemnly.  "  Pernis, 
who,  as  you  know,  was  elected  in  two  districts  at  the  last 
election,  takes  his  seat  for  the  Northern  division,  and  so 
leaves  ours  once  more  vacant." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  that,"  interrupted  Joost  impatientl}'-. 
"And  also  that  William  the  Tliird  is  King  of  Holland. 
But  I  am  waiting  to  hear  something  new." 

"  Wait  then,"  said  Kees,  imperturbably,  "  and  let  me  tell 
the  story  in  jny  own  way.  Our  district  being  vacant,  the 
electioneering  clubs  have  been  talking  about  What's-his- 
name,  and  So-and-so,  as  they  always  do  at  first,  but  in  the 
mean  time  some  half-a-dozen  citizens  of  the  working  class 
put  their  heads  together,  call  an  independent  meeting,  and 
nominate — you." 

"When  did  this  meeting  take  place?"  asked  Joost,  the 
color  rising  into  his  dark  cheek. 

"  Yesterday  evening,  my  dear  sir.  And  the  crowd  took 
up  your  name  immediately  and  screamed  themselves  hoarse 
with  it  all  over  the  place." 

"  But  that  does  not  elect  me,"  began  Joost.  "  The  elec- 
tioneering clubs —  " 

"  The  electioneering  clubs  would  scarcely  have  chosen 
you ;  you  are  not  partisan  enough.  But  the  promoters  of 
yesterday's  meeting  have  forced  their  hand.  Tliey  daren't 
split  the  vote,  you  see,  now  the  people  have  come  out  so  strong 


252  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

on  your  behalf.  I  came  across  the  Secretary  of  the  '  Central ' 
this  morning,  and  he  tells  me  that  they're  going  to  have  a 
meeting  on  purpose  in  two  days,  and  put  you  up,  so  as  to  be 
beforehand  with  the  other  party.  And  he  hopes  you'll  accept 
their  programme." 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Joost. 

"  Came  across  the  Secretary  "  was  a  euphemistic  way  of 
putting  it,  for  Kees  had  lingered  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Secretary's  house  for  more  than  an  hour  that  morning,  in 
the  hope  of  meeting  that  gentleman  and  hearing  what  he  had 
to  say. 

"  Then  will  you  come  out  on  the  other  side  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Joost.  "  I  shall  stick  to  my  own  colors  at  first, 
in  any  case." 

"  By  Jupiter,  it's  magnificent,"  cried  Kees,  in  high  en- 
thusiasm. "  A  representative  of  the  people,  chosen  by  the 
people  for  the  people,  without  any  party  intrigue.  The 
thing's  never  been  done  before,  Joost !  You're  bound  to 
pass,  my  boy,  and  I  wish  you  all  success.  What  a  happy 
fellow  you'll  be,  and  how  heartily  one  can  wish  you  joy  of  it, 
when  one  remembers  all  your  former  troubles.  What  a 
splendid  career !  Or,  as  Agatha  puts  it,  what  a  vast  sphere 
of  usefulness !     Bless  her  good  little  heart !  " 

"Yes,"  said  Joost  thoughtfully.  "It  is  a  vast  sphere 
of  usefulness,  and  a  splendid  career.  Should  I  really  be  the 
first  independent  member,  using  '  independent,'  of  course, 
in  its  technical  sense  of  '  belonging  to  neither  party  ?  '  I 
suppose  I  should." 

"  You  would,"  said  Kees,  "  and  that's  why  I  call  it  mag- 
nificent. It's  just  the  people  who've  pointed  you  out,  and 
said,  '  We'll  have  that  man  and  no  other.'  And  it's  never 
happened  before." 

'  They  had  reached  the  entrance  of  the  Club.  It  was 
thither  their  steps  had  been  tending.  The  clock  had  struck 
four,  and  the  building  would  be  filling  by  this  time. 


JOOST'S  LABORS  FOR  OTHERS.  253 

Joost  pushed  open  a  double  green-baize  door,  and  walked 
in.  A  large  room  with  a  comparatively  low  ceiling,  a  great 
round  table  in  the  middle,  full  of  newspapers,  and  a  number 
of  little  tables  in  all  corners,  surrounded  by  quantities  of 
leathern  easy-chairs.  All  the  chairs  occupied  by  men, 
smoking,  with  a  little  glass  of  orange-colored  bitters  or  white 
gin  in  front  of  them ;  a  buzz  of  talking,  a  rustle  of  paper,  and 
a  thick  cloud  of  blue  smoke  over  it  all.  Through  two  doors 
at  the  farther  end  a  distant  view  of  men  moving  round  billiard 
tables,  witltthe  constant  shock  of  balls  sounding  across,  and 
— on  the  left  side,  in  the  card-room — quartettes  of  white 
heads,  black  heads,  and  bald  heads  bending  over  their  whist. 
A  general  confusion  of  sounds,  and  the  occasional  clear  clink 
of  glass,  as  a  Avaiter  moved  about  between  the  groups.  A 
small  Club  such  as  every  provincial  town  in  Holland  can 
produce. 

Joost's  entrance  was  the  signal  for  a  general  commotion 
and  flutter  of  interest.  People  laid  down  their  papers  and 
turned  half-fbund  in  the  heavy  chairs,  or  glared  furtively  at 
the  new  comer  over  the  top  of  the  Toioji  Gazette. 

Joost  advanced  to  the  table,  his  stalwart  figure  looking 
all  the  taller  by  the  side  of  his  shorter,  stouter  brother-in- 
law.  Several  of  the  men  sitting  nearest  got  up  to  congratu- 
late him  and  to  ask  him  what  his  intentions  were.  Van 
Ilessel's  story  was  certainly  true.  Within  two  minutes  Joost 
heard  it  on  all  sides.  He  was  to  be  proclaimed  candidate 
for  the  States-General  in  the  next  meeting  of  the  Central 
Club,  hurriedly  called  together  for  that  special  purpose.  It 
was  true,  as  Kecs  had  said,  that  the  people,  by  their  spon- 
taneous and  altogether  unprecedented  action,  had  forced  the 
hand  of  the  wire-pullers. 

It  can  not  be  said  that  the  congratulations  Joost  received 
were  very  hearty  or  sincere  ones.  He  was  certainly  not  the 
candidate  the  politicians  by  profession  would  have  chosen. 
A  man  must  obey  orders  in  the  game  of  party  politics ;  and 


254  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

that  would  be  no  army  whose  every  recruit  aimed  at  posing 
as  a  general.  Most  of  the  gentlemen  of  Heist,  therefore, 
while  they  were  quite  willing  to  forgive  Joost  for  the  in- 
justice they  had  done  him,  ^.nd  receive  him  again  into  soci- 
ety, told  each  other  that  to  send  him  up  to  represent  the 
district  in  Parliament  was  quite  another  matter  altogether ! 
Everybody  tried  to  find  out  at  once  what  his  party  politics 
would  be.  That  he  would  have  none,  no  one  believed,  even 
though  he  repeatedly  affirmed  it. 

"  All  very  well,"  said  Beau  Liederlen,  running  his  fingers 
through  his  carefully  curled  gray  hair,  "  but  the  man  who 
goes  in  for  wine-drinking  must  decide  whether  he'll  have 
red  wine  or  white.  Et  ceux  qui  ne  veulent  ni  Vun  ni  Vautre 
ne  re^oivefit  jy«s  de  pots-de-vin  du  tout,  man  clier.''''  Beau 
Liederlen  was  one  of  those  people  without  occupation,  whose 
utterances  no  one  takes  seriously — not  even  they  themselves 
— or  he  would  hardly  have  dared  to  say  that.  He  lounged 
back  to  his  card -table,  where  he  was  playing  whist  for  half- 
penny points. 

Arthur  van  Asveld  sat  at  the  large  center  table,  his  hat 
on  his  head,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  He  bent  lower  over 
a  newspaper,  with  a  dark  frown  on  his  face.  He  was  fatter 
and  redder  than  ever  of  late.  It  can  not  be  denied  that  he 
was  beginning  to  look  a  little  bloated ;  his  big  stupid  eyes 
had  often  a  glazed  stare  in  them  which  by  no  means  im- 
proved their  expression.  It  was  said  pretty  plainly  now, 
that  the  Jonker  drank  too  much.  He  was  clerk  in  the 
Burgomaster's  office  still :  there  was  not  much  chance  that 
he  would  ever  be  anything  else.  The  Burgomaster  sighed 
over  him,  and  would  gladly  have  got  him  promotion.  Myn- 
heer van  Hessel  had  emerged  from  what  he  called  "  that  un- 
fortunate little  injustice  in  connection  with  my  son-in-law  " 
in  a  triumphant,  if  extenuated,  condition.  He  had  soon  fat- 
tened out  to  his  original  size,  and  he  was  now  as  bright, 
smiling,  pompous,  and  prosperous  as  ever.     He  had  also  un- 


JOOST'S  LABORS   FOR  OTHERS.  255 

packed  again,  and  repolislied,  his  little  store  of  quotations 
and  witticisms.  He  designated  the  pink  Jonker  invariably 
as  "  my  rosy  cross  "  in  allusion  to  the  well-known  lines  of  a 

Dutch  poet : 

"  A  cross  with  roses 
Is  each  man's  fate." 

He  was  not  much  liked,  somehow,  poor  man,  in  the  village 
of  which  he  was  Burgomaster.  People  were  always  describ- 
ing him  as  a  worthy  creature  "  after  all."  The  Governor  of 
the  Province  did  not  speak  of  him  even  in  those  relatively 
complimentary  terms. 

When  Joost  came  out  of  prison,  van  Asveld  found  him- 
self placed  in  a  difficult  position.  Personally  he  remained 
convinced  of  the  liberated  man's  guilt,  and  therefore  refused 
all  intercourse  with  the  Baron  van  Trotsem's  murderer. 
The  refusal  had  been  made  the  more  awkward  for  him  by 
Joost's  walking  up  with  outstretched  hand,  as  if  nothing 
had  happened,  the  very  first  time  they  met  at  the  Club  ;  the 
Jonker  had  *put  his  arm  down  by  his  side,  and  there  had 
been  an  end  of  it,  though  many  of  Joost's  warmest  partisans 
had  been  very  violent  about  it,  and  Joost  himself  had  sup- 
pressed a  momentary  impulse  to  knock  the  fat  nobleman 
down.  The  magistrature,  as  has  been  said,  although  the 
necessary  evidence  had  escaped  them,  were  not  altogether 
willing  to  admit  Joost's  complete  innocence,  and  van  Asveld, 
who  had  gone  through  all  three  trials,  may  therefore  perhaps 
be  more  readily  forgiven  for  sticking  to  his  original  impres- 
sion. He  cut  Joost  dead,  although  Liederlen  told  him 
frankly,  it  was  execrable  taste  of  him  to  do  so,  and,  con- 
stantly as  they  met,  the  two  had  not  exchanged  a  word  since 
the  day  when  Joost  had  paid  over  his  forty  thousand  florins 
to  van  Asveld. 

The  men  in  the  front  room  of  the  Club,  then,  ci'owded 
round  Joost  this  afternoon  and  talked  of  his  political  pros- 
pects.    Some  of  them,  even  at  this  early  stage,  began  recom- 


256  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

mending  special,  or  even  individual,  interests  to  his  pro- 
tection. 

"  When  you  are  Deputy,"  said  one  of  his  colleagues  in 
the  direction  of  the  Local  Steam  Tram  company,  "you 
won't  forget  the  concession  up  to  Hoest,  Avelingh." 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,"  cried  a  little  lawyer  from  the  town. 
"  We  can't  have  you  people  pushing  all  your  local  claims  to 
the  front.  The  interests  of  the  whole  district,  and  of  the 
principal  part  of  it,  especially,  must  be  considered  in  the  first 
place.  No,  no  Avelingh  can't  take  any  particular  notice  of 
the  half-dozen  enterprises  he  happens  to  be  concerned  in 
himself." 

In  the  mean  time  van  Asveld  sat  by,  with  sullen  face, 
listening  unwillingly  to  the  chorus  of  acclamation  around 
the  man  he  hated. 

"  You  are  a  damned  lucky  fellow.  Mynheer  Avelingh,  to 
have  that  whole  trial  shindy  kicked  up  round  your  name," 
remarked  a  young  nobleman,  whose  ancestors  had  exhausted 
the  stock  of  brains  in  the  family.  "  A  damned  lucky  fellow, 
as  things  have  turned  out.  Don't  you  think  so,  van  As- 
veld?" 

"  I  ?  "  said  Arthur,  thus  unexpectedly  addressed,  and 
thrown  off  his  guard.  I  think — if  any  one  cares  for  what  I 
think — that  some  people  " — he  disdained  the  subterfuge — 
"  that  Mynheer  Avelingh  has  invested  his  money  very  well, 
and  that  it  is  beginning  to  bear  very  good  interest." 

The  words  were  spoken  very  deliberately  and  distinctly. 
An  awkward  silence  fell  on  the  party  of  gentlemen  grouped 
round  the  table. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  infer,  van  Asveld,"  said  Kees  Hessel 
hotly,  gnawing  at  his  big  blonde  moustache,  "that  my 
brother-in-law  has  bribed  people  into  bringing  him  for- 
ward?" 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  inferring,"  answered  Arthur, 
lifting  his  heavy  eyes  to  Joost's  face  with  a  look  of  ineffable 


JOOST'S  LABORS  FOR  OTHERS.  257 

contempt.  "  Bribery !  Nonsense.  No.  There  is  no  brib- 
ery in  Holland.  But  liow  do  the  pious  people  put  it? 
'  Charity  suffereth  long  and  is  kind.'  Charity  proves  won- 
derfully kind  sometimes — to  the  charitable." 

"  If  one  elector  has  received  his  charity,  it  is  you  " — be- 
gan Kees.     Joost  stopped  him. 

"  Address  yourself  to  me,  sir,"  he  said,  returning  Ar- 
thur's contemptuous  stare.  "  If  you  accuse  me  of  owing  a 
large  amount  of  such  popularity  as  I  may  possess  to  ill-advised 
charity,  I  can  only  admit  that  there  is  much  truth  in  the 
accusation.  But  I  believe  that  the  assertion  is  still  more 
correct,  that  I  am  largely  indebted  to  the  unjust  scandal 
which  has  been  connected  with  my  name,  and  for  which 
I,  at  any  rate,  can  not  be  held  responsible." 

Arthur  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  truth  of  the  asser- 
tion was  very  unpalatable  to  him. 

"  There  are  various  ways  of  getting  money.  Mynheer 
Avelingh,"  he  said  with  much  meaning.  "  And  there  are 
various  ways  4»f  spending  it.  Each  man  has  his  own  way. 
If  I  were  in  possession  of  your  fortune,  I  should  buy  kisses ; 
you  buy  votes.  You  are  the  wiser  man,  and,  I  presume,  the 
happier."  He  had  risen  while  speaking,  and  now  turned  on 
his  lieel  and  left  the  room. 

"  Come  away,"  said  Kees,  taking  his  brother-in-law's 
arm.  "  You  needn't  look  so  white,  Joost,  for  anything  that 
cad  happens  to  say.  You  know  we  have  always  called  him 
a  cad  ever  since  our  college  days." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Joost,  as  ho  allowed  himself  to  be 
drawn  forth  from  the  stifling  atmosphere  inside  into  the 
warm  evening  air.  "  Yes,  but  I  am  not  sure  it  was  the 
right  epithet  to  apply  to  him.  I  don't  think  he  is  exactly  a 
cad." 

Joost  found  his  Napoleon  waiting  at  the  inn  where  he 
always  put  up,  and  soon  he  was  bowling  swiftly  along  the 
highroad  behind  as  fine  a  pair  of  spanking  grays  as  ever  shied 


258  JOOST  AVELINGH, 

at  one  of  the  numerous  steam-tram  cars,  wliicli  ruin  the  nar- 
row Dutch  roads  for  the  rich  while  they  make  them  accessi- 
ble to  the  poor.  Joost  x\velingh  had  interested  himself  in 
these  means  of  locomotion.     He  could  not  complain. 

He  found  Agatha,  as  her  brother  had  foretold,  in  a 
high  state  of  glee.  She  was  only  anxious  to  know  how 
Joost  would  take  the  news.  And  when  she  saw  that  he 
littered  no  protest,  but  plainly,  if  somewhat  passively,  ac- 
cepted the  situation,  she  openly  declared  her  satisfaction. 
It  was  true  that  Joost  did  not  now,  as  on  the  former  occa- 
sion, declare  his  unwillingness  to  accept  the  projected 
honor.  He  seemed  to  acquiesce  in  it,  not  altogether  ill- 
pleased  at  the  splendid  opportunities  of  usefulness  which  it 
opened  up  to  him.  It  would  give  him,  besides,  a  much  de- 
sired distraction,  rousing  all  his  energies  and  bringing  them 
into  play. 

"  I  want  work,"  he  said,  tossing  his  head  like  a  horse 
that  sniffs  the  battle,  "  hard  work,  and  plenty  of  it.  It  is 
wonderful  how  much  a  man  can  do  in  a  day,  if  he  gives  his 
whole  mind  to  it.  And  I  like  giving  my  whole  mind  to 
business.  I  like  being  thoroughly  and  consumedly  busy. 
It  does  me  good." 

Agatha  could  not  help  agreeing  with  him.  He  had 
fallen  once  or  twice  of  late  into  his  old  moody  fits.  Ever 
since  the  widow  Hellevaer  had  sent  those  musty  old  letters, 
he  seemed  to  be  less  cheerful.  He  had  shown  his  wife  the 
letters,  and  discussed  them  with  her,  but  it  was  as  if  a  small 
cloud  had  again  come  between  them,  untraceable  and  inex- 
plicable, but  no  less  a  cloud  on  that  account. 

It  was  a  great  joy,  then,  to  Agatha  to  let  her  mind  dwell 
upon  this  public  recognition  of  Joost's  merit,  and  all  the 
honor  and  advantage  it  would  bring  him.  For  herself  she 
cared  little,  and  yet  she  delighted  to  think  that  she  also 
would  henceforth  be  associated  with  his  plans  and  projects, 
and  that  he  would  allow  her  to  work  them  out  with  him.    It 


INTERVIEWING  THE  CANDIDATE.  259 

compensated  her,  to  a  certain  extent,  for  the  loneliness  of 
that  great  childless  house.  Agatha  had  never  been  able 
quite  to  forgive  her  friends  and  relations  for  their  desertion 
of  Joost  in  the  hour  of  trouble.  They  had  believed  the 
charge  against  him.  There  lay  the  sting.  Actually  be- 
lieved it !  Incredible  as  it  seemed  to  her,  she  was  obliged 
to  reco2:nize  the  fact.  And  it  vexed  her,  and  imbittered 
her  intercourse  with  those  whom  she  had  always  loved  best. 


CHAPTEK  XXXIL 

INTERVIEWING   THE    CANDIDATE. 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Burgomaster  with  his  old 
wave  of  the  hand,  "  yes,  I  think  I  can  promise  you  that." 

He  was  statiding  in  the  middle  of  the  vestibule  of  Trot- 
sem  Castle.  Opposite  him  were  drawn  up  in  straggling  line 
some  half  dozen  old  farmers  in  their  tight-fitting  black 
clothes,  black  caps  and  stiff  black  stocks.  The  only  bit  of 
color  about  these  old  gentlemen  was  the  dark  red  of  their 
clean-shaven  faces,  or  an  occasional  glow  of  fading  yellow 
among  the  grizzly  stubble  that  showed  under  their  caps. 
All  wore  earrings ;  all  held  their  hands  twisted  round  by 
their  sides,  and  all  hung  their  heads  on  their  breasts,  while 
their  little  eyes  twinkled  up  at  Mynheer  van  Hessel.  The 
Burgomaster  beamed  down  upon  them. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  "  sit  down.  My  son-in-law  will  be 
with  you  immediately." 

The  boers  all  shufilcd  a  little  uneasily,  but  no  one  availed 
himself  of  tlu;  invitation  to  drop  down  on  the  oaken  bench 
which  stood  just  behind  tlicm. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  continued  Mynheer  van  lies- 


2G0  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

sel,  "  that  it  would  be  an  immense  advantage  to  your  village 
if  the  canal  passed  by  it.  There  is  a  great  deal  in  what  you 
say  that  strikes  me  as  singularly  accurate  and — and  well  put. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the — ahem — the  new  canal  Avould 
confer  great  benefits  upon  your  village  if  it  passed  that 
way." 

"  Juistament,*  Heer  Burgomaster,"  said  the  spokesman, 
a  fine,  hale,  cunning-looking  old  boer  of  some  seventy  win- 
ters.    "  It  is  just  as  your  Nobleness  says." 

"  Ja  !  "  echoed  two  or  three  others,  shuffling  to  and  fro, 
"  it  is  just  as  the  Heer  Burgomaster  says." 

"  Not  that  there  is  not  another  side  to  the  question," 
continued  Mynheer  van  Hessel,  "  it  seems  more  natm-al,  and 
it  is  certainly  much  more  simjjle,  to  let  it  take  the  short  cut 
by  Zielen.  The  Government  will  look  at  it  in  that  light, 
you  may  be  sure." 

"  Zielen  is  a  place  of  no  importance,  not  like  our  village, 
as  the  Heer  Burgomaster  knows,"  said  the  old  boer.  "  It 
remains  to  be  seen,  with  the  Heer  Burgomaster's  permission, 
what  the  Government  will  do." 

"  It  will  cost  fully  seventy  thousand  florins  more  to  go 
round  as  you  wish  it,"  remarked  Mynheer  van  Hessel. 

The  boers  all  looked  at  each  other.  "  We  would  never 
vote  for  a  candidate  who  took  the  canal  round  by  Zielen," 
said  one — the  youngest,  apparently  pulling  hard  at  a  shin- 
ing coat  button. 

"  Juistament"  muttered  all  the  others. 

The  Burgomaster  knew  that.  It  was  what  they  were 
come  for.  Next  spring  a  canal  was  to  be  cut  right  across 
the  province,  and  in  the  natural  course  of  affairs  it  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  populous  village  to  which  these 
people  belonged.  But  it  might  be  made  to  twist  past  it  at 
considerable  extra  expense,  and  these,  the  notabilities'  of  the 

*  Pronounce  yoistementt,  a  corruption  of  the  French  justement. 


INTERVIEWING  THE  CANDIDATE.  2G1 

neighborhood,  had  come  up  to  inquire  wliich  way  the  can- 
didate woukl  exert  his  influence,  before  they  gave  their  vote. 

"  Tlie  advantages  to  your  part  of  the  province  are  mani- 
fest," said  the  Burgomaster  hastily,  "  I  feel  confident  you 
will  find  no  man  more  willing  than  my  son-in-law  to  admit 
that.  He  will  be  in  immediately,  and  will  tell  you  so  him- 
self. He  is  a  little  chary  of  his  words,  and  rough  in  his  way 
of  putting  things,  but  you  mustn't  mind  his  manner.  Be- 
sides, of  course,  as  candidate,  one  most  be  careful  what  one 
says.  All  yom\w;ords  are  used  against  you.  And,  mind 
you,  let  me  tell  you  this  before  he  comes.  You  don't  expect 
him  to  be  such  a  fool  as  to  say  plainly  that  he'll  do  what  you 
want,  do  you  ?    Eh  ?  " 

The  boers  looked  uneasily  at  one  another.  No  one 
spoke. 

"  Because,  look  here,"  the  Burgomaster  came  quite  close, 
and  tapped  the  old  spokesman  on  the  breast,  "  if  you  expect 
that,  you  needn't  wait  for  him.  I  know  Mynheer  Avelingh ; 
he's  no  fool,  a^I  say.  As  deep  as  some  of  you  boers,  whom 
no  one  ever  tried  to  cheat  yet  without  cutting  his  own  nose 
off.  He  doesn't  commit  himself,  not  before  the  election. 
He  won't  have  any  newspa23er  reporter  finding  out  and  jorint- 
ing  that  he's  promised  you  the  canal.  Not  he.  You  know 
what  the  poet  says  : — 

"■ '  If  speech  be  silver,  silence  must  be  gold.' 

You  know  that,  eh  ?  " 

Half  the  boers  nodded. 

"  Well,  let  me  tell  you  one  thing.  Mark  my  words,"  the 
Burgomaster  impressively  shook  his  finger  to  and  fro  iji 
front  of  the  old  boer's  face.  "  To  say  one  thing  and  mean 
another,  that's  the  money  a  political  candidate  has  to  pay 
with."  He  drew  himself  up  in  triumph  uiul  surveyed  his 
audience.  "  And  therefore,"  he  continued,  "  I  know  my  son- 
in-law,  and,  of    course,  as   his — his   fatherly  counselor — 1 


202  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

largely  advise  liim  and  give  him  the  benefit  of  my  experi- 
ence. And  I  am  acquainted  with  liis  views  of  this  subject. 
You  understand  me?" 

"  Ja,  ja,  Heer  Burgomaster,"  said  the  boers. 

"  Of  course  you  do.  I  wish  I  always  had  such  fellows  as 
you  to  do  business  with,  instead  of  my  burgher  people.  We 
should  get  on  better.  Very  well ;  I  may  tell  you  that  if  the 
candidate  says ;  '  I  won't  do  it,'  he  won't,  and  there's  an 
end  of  it.  But  if  he  says :  '  I  shall  do  what's  right.  I 
shall  examine  the  matter  and  arrange  for  the  best,'  or  any- 
thing of  that  kind,  then  he  will.  And  don't  expect  him  to 
break  his  own  window-panes  by  a  promise  in  so  many  words, 
for  he  won't  do  it.  Nobody  would.  And  if  you  want  that, 
you  may  as  well  go  home  at  once." 

"  We  should  have  liked  a  definite  promise,"  said  one 
boer. 

"  Then  go  to  the  other  side,"  cried  the  Burgomaster  im- 
patiently. "  I  dare  say  they'll  promise  anything.  It's  the 
definite  promises  that  nobody  keeps.  And  here  you'll  get 
what's  far  better,  an  indirect  one.  At  least  from  the  can- 
didate. Fm  a  free  man,  and  I  don't  mind  going  farther 
and  saying :   '  We'll  do  what  we  can.'  " 

"  Will  the  Heer  Burgomaster  give  us  that  in  writing  ?  " 
interposed  the  youngest  boer  again. 

"I  should  not  mind,  but  what's  the  use?"  replied  van 
Hessel.  "  It's  not  like  a  promise  to  pay.  We'll  use  our  influ- 
ence. Whether  I  say  that  or  write  it,  it  comes  to  the  same 
thing.  You  don't  expect  us  to  shout  out  our  views  on  the 
house-tops  —  although  house-tops  are  the  best  things  for 
vieivs,  eh  ? "  ( Nobody  saw  this.  Besides,  a  Dutch  boer 
never  laughs.)  "  It's  backstairs  influence  you  and  I  want,  I 
suppose.  It's  backstairs  influence  does  it.  And  backstairs 
influence  you  shall  have.  Half-a- word's  enough  to  a  good 
listener.  Mind  that,  when  you  speak  to  my  son-in-law. 
Half -a- word's  enough  to  a  good  listener.     Fine  weather  for 


INTERVIEWING  THE  CANDIDATE.  2G3 

the  crops,  eh?"  And  the  Burgomaster  talked  about  the 
agricultural  outlook  till  Joost  Aveliugh  walked  iuto  the 
hall. 

The  preparations  for  the  election  were  in  full  swing  now, 
and  the  candidate  had  a  busy  time  of  it.  He  looked  bright 
and  energetic ;  it  was  true,  as  he  said,  that  the  bustle  and 
hard  work  did  him  good.  He  stopped,  when  he  saw  the 
little  group  round  his  father-in-law,  and  looked  inquiringly 
from  one  to  the  other.  The  worthy  Burgomaster  rapidly 
introduced  the  deputation,  and  explained  the  object  of  their 
visit. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Joost,  "  for  the  trouble 
you  have  taken  in  coming  to  see  me  " ;  he  had  learned  al- 
ready, to  a  certain  extent,  the  little  ways  and  tricks  of  a  suc- 
cessful politician.  "  I  shall  of  course  do  what  I  can  to  fur- 
ther your  interests,  but  I  can  not  promise  anything  with 
regard  to  the  canal." 

The  Burgomaster  winked  at  the  dej^utation.  Nobody 
winked  back,  ^sut  there  was  the  slightest  twinkle  of  sympa- 
thy in  one  or  two  of  those  cunning  little  eyes. 

"  I  have  not  studied  the  subject  at  all,  as  yet,"  said  Joost. 
"  I  should  say,  superficially  speaking,  that  the  canal  would 
naturally  go  by  Zielen.  But  I  must  examine  the  matter 
first." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  interposed  the  Burgomaster. 
"  Naturally  by  Zielen,  but  there  may  be  other  reasons — 
other  reasons  which  we  shall  easily  discover,  wliy  it  should 
not." 

"TluTc  may,"  said  Joost,  "but  I  must  wait  till  I  have 
discovered  them." 

"  Zielen  is  not  in  your  district,"  said  one  boor,  with  a 
sharp  look. 

The  Burgomaster  trembled  for  the  effect  of  this  speech. 
"  You  may  be  sure,"  he  said,  hastily,  "  that  we  shall  act  as 
seems  bot^t." 


204  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost.  "^  I  shall  do  what  I  think  is  right,  as 
far  as  possible.  Be  sure,  gentlemen,  that  I  shall  further  the 
interests  of  my  district,  and  of  your  part  of  it,  with  all  the 
means  in  my  power.  I  shall  do  what  I  can  for  you.  But  I 
must  do  what  is  right.  You  will  take  a  glass  of  beer  ?  " 
He  passed  on  to  the  dining-room.  The  Burgomaster  winked 
once  more  to  the  deputation,  and  put  his  finger  to  his  li^^s. 


CHAPTER   XXXIIL 

MORE   ABOUT   THE    MAD    COUNTESS. 

"  It  was  quite  right  of  you  not  to  commit  yourself,"  he 
said  to  Joost  as  soon  as  they  were  alone.  "  And,  really,  the 
idea  of  the  canal  going  round  in  an  unnecessary  curve  like 
that  is  too  absurd,  and  could  ohly  come  up  in  the  heads  of 
clownish  peasants  like  those  creatures.  But  you  can  always 
talk  about  it  to  the  minister  afterward  and  tell  him  you 
don't  expect  him  to  listen  to  you  but  that  you  do  it  '•'•  pour 
acquit  de  conscience^ 

Joost  did  not  answer.  He  was  wondering  how  long  he 
would  keep  his  hands  clean  in  the  struggle  of  political  life. 

"  But  now  to  talk  of  something  else,"  said  the  Burgo- 
master, walking  to  another  part  of  the  room  and  earnestly 
scrutinizing  a  picture  which  hung  there.  "  I  am  sorry  to 
say  that  I  also  must  have  a  little  conversation  on  business 
with  you,  Joost." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  his  son-in-law.  A  cloud  came  over  his 
face.  He  did  not  like  talking  about  business  with  Mynheer 
van  Hessel. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Burgomaster,  still  deep  in  contem- 
plation of  tlie  work  of  art  before  him.     "  Yes.     It  is  alwavs 


MORE   ABOUT   THE   MAD   COUNTESS.  2G5 

more  or  less  unpleasant,  but  it  is  unavoidable.  You  know 
I  hate  beating  about  the  bush.  Let  us  be  brief,  and  frank. 
I  will  be  frank  above  all  things.  Even  my  enemies  admit 
that  I  am  the  soul  of  frankness.  Very  well.  I  must  make 
a  clear  statement.  Some  people  would  call  it  a  confession. 
Let  me  rather  describe  it  as  an  elucidation  of  such  action  as 
I  may  have  considered  myself  obliged  to  take  under  peculiar 
circumstances.  Confession  is  such  a  misleading  word.  You 
are  with  me  so  far  ?  " 

"  Farther,"  said  Joost  with  a  lowering  smile.  "  If  you 
want  money  again,  please  tell  me  at  once  how  much.  I 
can't  promise  I  shall  be  able  to  give  a  large  sum  this  time." 

The  Burgomaster  turned  from  the  picture  and  came  for- 
ward, holding  up  both  hands  deprecatingly.  "  Money  ! " 
he  said,  "  money,  dear  boy ;  I  do  not  want  money. 

"  '  I  ask  not  silver,  ask  not  gold, 

I  claim  the  love  which  you  withhold.' 

Not  that  yorrwithhold  yofir  love  from  me — far  from  it — 
but  the  poet  says  so,  and  I  am  not  responsible  for  his  senti- 
ments. No,  I  am  not  going  to  ask  you  for  jnoney,  but  your 
generous  offer  makes  what  I  was  going  to  say  so  much  easier. 
I  have  got  to  speak  of  some  money  I  owe  you  and  unhap- 
pily— at  present — can  hardly  refund." 

"  I  know  all  about  that,"  said  Joost  hastily,  "  why  speak 
of  it  ?  " 

"  Ahem,"  replied  the  Burgomaster.  "  It  is  not  that. 
Hardly  that.  I  am  not  alluding  to  the  small  sum  which — 
well,  well ;  we  will  droji  that  subject  as  you  wish  it.  This 
is  a  dillerent  matter ;  no  connection  with  any  arrangements 
of  yours.     Altogether  unknown  to  you  in  fact." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Joost.     "  Then  can't  it  remain  so  ?  " 

"  It  might,  perhaps,"  answered  the  Burgomaster,  a  little 
ruefully.  "  But  no," — he  struck  his  manly  breast — "  I  con- 
sider it  my  duty  to  make  you  acquainted  with  the  facts. 


2G6  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

And  I  hope  you  will  appreciate  my  uprightness  in  so  doing. 
It  is  painful  as  you  can  imagine,  for  a  j^arent — " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Joost,  hastily.  "  And  now,  briefly, 
if  you  would  be  so  kind, — as  you  promised — and  frankly, 
what  is  it?" 

"  I  had  a  sister  once,  Joost.  I  do  not  suppose  you  were 
aware  of  that  fact  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Joost,  with  genuine  astonishment. 

"  She  was  older  than  I  was.  She  never  appeared  in  these 
parts." 

"  She  died  young,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Joost. 

"  Hardly.  No  ;  I  should  not  say  she  died  young.  She 
disappeared  young;  let  us  put  it  like  that.  When  she  was 
about  twenty  years  old,  she  unfortunately  went  off  her  head ; 
turned  crazy,  you  know ;  very  regrettable.  And  so — eh — 
they  locked  her  ivp.  Very  sad — eh — very  sad.  Same  thing 
had  happened  to  her  aunt  before ;  made  it  all  the  worse." 

"  I  liad  no  idea  of  this,"  said  Joost.  It  was  very  sad,  as 
you  say,  for  the  lady.     Does  Agatha  know  of  it? " 

"  Not  she.  In  fact  nobody  knows  of  it.  At  least,  nobody 
who  would  speak  of  the  subject.  She  was — mercifully — 
abroad  at  the  time,  and  my  father  gave  out  that  she  died 
there.  He  did  not  want  it  to  damage  my  prospects,  and  he 
knew,  poor  man,  that  his  eldest  sister's  madness  had  kept 
his  other  two  sisters — who  weren't  crazier  than  most  old 
maids — from  marrying  all  their  lives.  So  we  brought  poor 
Agatha  home  and  locked  her  up  in  the  provincial  asylum, 
and  kept  it  dark." 

"  Agatha,"  cried  Joost,  with  an  involuntary  shudder. 

"  Yes,  that  was  her  name.  One  of  the  daughters  in  our 
family  has  been  called  Agatha  for  at  least  six  generations," 
said  the  Burgomaster  with  evident  pride. 

Joost  shuddered  again.  "  How  could  you  call  your 
daughter  Agatha?"  he  asked. 

"  Whv  not?"  said  the  Burgomaster  in  astonishment. 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MAD  COUNTESS.      2()7 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Joost.  "  The  name — "  lie  shuddered 
again.  He  had  always  had  an  inexplicable  horror  of  madness 
in  all  its  forms.  At  that  moment  he  remembered  his  visit  to 
the  asylum  with  his  uncle  on  the  day  of  van  Trotsem's  death. 

"  Nonsense,  Joost.  I  have  always  said  you  were  so  melo- 
dramatic. Yau  must  have  it  from  your  poor  mother  who 
made  that  runaway  match.  It  tons  a  foolish  match  ;  old 
Trotsem  was  right  there.    And  I  dare  say  she  repented  of  it." 

"And  what  about  your  sister?  What  connection  had 
she  with  the_ money  you  owe  me?" 

"  I  am  coming  to  that.  Of  course,  my  poor  sister  being 
mad,  hopelessly  mad,  as  all  the  doctors  said — and  in  spite 
of  their  unanimity  she  never  got  better,  but  she  was  always 
of  a  contrary  nature  from  her  birth — I  might  naturally  be 
considered  her  heir.  In  fact,  I  could  really  be  looked  upon 
as  the  de  facto  owner  of  her  property  already.  Does  the  law 
admit  that  mad  people  can  have  property  ?  Evidently  not. 
And  that's  why  we  appoint  a  trustee  or  curator." 

"  The  opposite  conclusion  seems  as  reasonable,"  said 
Joost.  "  Were  you  curator  ?  "  He  threw  a  good  deal  of 
unconscious  meaning  into  the  last  three  words. 

"  I  was.  And  I  may  say  that  the  deceased  had  no  cause 
to  regret  it.  She  never  wanted  for  anything,  and  a  first-class 
lunatic,  as  you  may  be  aware,  is  a  very  expensive  thing." 

"  Bat  if  the  money  was  her  own?"  said  Joost. 

"Just  so.  She  never  wanted  for  anything.  But  the 
money  was  not  her  own,  exactly.  And  in  fact — look  here, 
Joost,  this  was  how  the  whole  thing  came  about.  My  sister 
had  no  money,  and  I  had  none  either — you  know  that ;  for 
you  found  it  out  when  you  took  my  poor  Agatha  without  a 
penny ;  my  money  is  my  wife's — and  really,  I  do  not  know 
what  would  liave  become  of  her,  if  your  uncle  van  Trotsem, 
who  was  the  soul  of  generosity,  had  not  stepped  in  and  pro- 
vided for  her  for  life." 

"  My  uncle  van  Trotsem ! "  cried  Joost  in  amazement, 


2G8  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  my  uncle  van  Trotsem  was  not  the  sonl  of  generosity,  nor 
anything  like  it.     What  made  him  do  that? " 

But  the  Burgomaster  hurried  on  with  his  back  turned  to 
his  son-in-law :  "  And  I  must  tell  you  briefly  and  frankly, 
Joost ;  briefly  and  frankly :  that  he  settled  during  his  life- 
time, in  fact,  shortly  after  my  father's  death,  a  sum  of 
eighty  thousand  florins  *  on  the  poor  creature  for  life,  the 
money  to  be  administered  by  me  and  the  yearly  interest  to 
go  to  her  support.  And  I  can  assure  you  most  solemnly — I 
can  swear  to  you — that  she  received  every  penny  that  was 
due  to  her  until  the  day  of  her  death,  which  occurred  a 
month  or  Uyo  ago,  I  regret  to  say." 

"  But  what  induced  my  uncle  to  make  such  an  arrange- 
ment ?  "  queried  Joost. 

"  I  always  said  it  was  a  bad  arrangement,  not  square  and 
above-hand,  you  know.  And  I  am  glad  to  see  you  agree 
with  me.  But  your  venerable  relation,  who,  perhaps,  was 
stingy,  as  you  say,  thought  differently,  and  he  made  the 
extraordinary  stipulation  that  the  capital  should  revert  to 
him  or  his  heirs  at  her  death.  Only,  as  we  were  all  anxious 
that  no  one  should  know  anything  about  the  sad  circum- 
stances, it  was  to  be  refunded  to  the  heirs  as  repayment  of 
money  the  Baron  had  lent  me." 

"  And  the  money  is  gone  ?  "  said  Joost. 
"  I  regret  to  say,  my  dear  boy,  that  there  is  not  as  much 
money  left  as  I  had  hoped  there  would  be.  Through  no  fault 
of  mine,  I  can  assure  you.  Unfortunate  investments  :  Mis- 
placed confidence.  You  know  what  the  Scripture  saith  : 
'  Riches  make  unto  themselves  wings  and  flee  away.'  No 
one,  I  can  assure  you,  is  to  blame,  but  the  money  is  unhap- 
pily not  forthcoming." 

"  Then  why  tell  me  of  the  whole  matter  ?  "  said  Joost. 
"  I  did  not  know  about  it." 


*  Some  £6.500, 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MAD  COUNTESS.      2G9 

"  For  that,  my  dear  boy,  nothing  is  to  blame  but  another 
man's  fussy  interference.  It  was  a  great  mistake  of  your 
uncle  to  mix  up  a  Notary  in  so  private  a  matter,  and  ap- 
point him  co-trustee.  And  now,  though  I  have  told  the 
Notary  a  hundred  times  to  leave  near  relations  like  you  and 
me  to  settle  such  matters  between  them,  he  insists  upon  see- 
ing your  receipt  for  the  money.  He  has  worried  my  life  out 
of  me  these  last  three  weeks."  The  Burgomaster  heaved  a 
deep  sigh. 

"  I  see,"  said  Joost.  "  And  how  much  of  the  money  is 
left?" 

"  Well,  if  you  wish  it,  I  believe  it  might  be  possible  to 
say  that  five  thousand  florins  were  left — but  really — " 

"  I  see,"  said  Joost.  "  So  you  want  me  to  sign  a  little 
paper  stating  that  I  have  received  eighty  thousand  from 
Mynheer  van  Hessel  in  payment  of  a  debt  contracted  in 
my  uncle's  lifetime." 

"  Really,  Joost,  there  is  no  hurry.  At  least,  there  would 
not  be,  if  thatt  unconscionable  Notary  had  any  sense  of  de- 
cency. Of  course,  I  have  told  him  how  busy  you  are  with 
your  election  just  now.  But  he  won't  listen ;  and  if  you 
could  oblige  me — Bis  clat  qui  cito  dat,  you  know." 

"  I  must  think  of  it,"  said  Joost,  shortly.  "  I  believe  I 
shall  have  some  conditions  to  propose.  The  whole  story  has 
taken  me  utterly  by  surprise.  1  can  not  understand  my  un- 
cle's action  in  the  matter." 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  there  had  been  some  flirta- 
tions, all  in  secret  thougli,  between  him  and  my  sister. 
Your  uncle  was  a  young  fellow  of  twenty  or  so.  Ilis  father 
wouldn't  hoar  of  it.  Stupid  old  man,  I  suppose.  And 
Agatha  went  mad,  and  your  uncle  remained  unmarried  and 
loved  his  sister  instead,  who  wasn't  born,  I  should  say,  at 
the  time.  She  would  have  gone  mad  in  any  case,  I  suppose, 
like  her  aunt.  But  I  don't  know  what  your  uncle  thought, 
or  didn't  tliink.     All    F  know  is  ho  looked  after  her,  and  I 


270  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

believe  lie  used  to  go  and  see  her  even.  Eum  story.  Sounds 
quite  romantic.  Queer  old  chap,  your  uncle.  I  have  some- 
times thought  his  refusal  to  let  you  marry  my  girl  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  a  romantic  fear  he  had  she  might  go  mad  in 
time,  like  the  other  two  women." 

The  whole  connection  rushed  in  upon  Joost  Avith  terrible 
certainty.  He  was  amazed  g,t  himself  for  not  having  per- 
ceived it  before. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  cried,  starting  up,  "  that 
my  uncle  was  bound  to  secrecy  about  this  horrible  family- 
secret  of  yours,  and  that  you  now  come  and  tell  me  my  wife 
is  going  mad,  and  you  both  knew  it  ?  "  He  seized  the  old 
man  by  the  breast  and  actually  shook  him. 

"  Joost,  my  dear  Joost ! "  cried  the  Burgomaster,  retreat- 
ing rapidly,  "you  are  outrageous.  Really,  I  can  not  allow 
this.  I  must  beg  of  you — There  is  no  question  of  mental 
derangement  in  Agatha !  She  is  perfectly  well  and  sensible. 
Eeally,  my  dear  Joost ! '' 

Joost  recovered  himself  with  an  effort.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,"  he  said,  "  the  news  upset  me.  I  think  you  had 
better  leave  me  for  a  little." 

"  I  assure  you  Agatha  is  not  at  all  like  her  aunt.  The 
poor  old  lady  was  as  silly  as  silly  can  be.  She  called  her- 
self Countess  de  Montelimart,  an  absurdity ;  and  even  at  her 
death  she  left  me  a  parrot  and  a  canary  she  called  her  chil- 
dren, and  she  sent  me  word  that  two  others  had  died.  I  had 
their  necks  wrung  immediately ;  the  parrot  might  have  told 
unpleasant  tales." 

"  Leave  me  now,"  said  Joost  in  a  dull  voice,  "  I  will  lot 
you  know  about  the  money.  I  shall  make  a  condition  about 
it;  that  is  all.  Good-by,  Burgomaster."  He  leaned  his 
elbows  on  the  desk,  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  till  the 
Burgomaster  had  softly  left  the  room. 

Even  then  he  retained  the  same  position.  He  was  slowly 
recapitulating  the  events  of  that  fatal  fourteenth  of  Decern- 


MORE  ABOUT  THE  MAD  COUNTESS.      271 

ber,  his  uncle's  last  day  on  earth.  lie  knew  now  the  reason 
why  that  uncle  had  ojiposed  his  marriage,  a  reason  promj^t- 
ed,  after  all,  whatever  might  have  been  its  real  value,  by  the 
interest  the  old  man  felt  in  his  nephew.  And  a  solemn 
promise,  given  to  the  father  of  four  marriageable  daughters, 
had  bound  over  the  Baron  to  a  silence  he  could  not  even 
break  when  his  ward's  happiness  came  to  be  concerned  in 
the  matter.  The  old  man's  words  came  back  to  Joost  now, 
across  the  years,  with  frightful  clearness,  no  longer  as  cruel 
threats  and_  meaningless  taunts.  The  kindness,  misplaced 
as  it  had  been,  and  awkward  and  unintelligible,  had  been 
truly  kindness  of  its  sort.  No  one,  overlooking  the  past, 
could  say  that  Joost's  had  been  a  happy  boyhood,  or  that 
his  uncle  had  done  aught  to  brighten  it,  but  the  great 
charges  of  cruelty,  which  Joost's  heart  had  always  preferred 
against  his  guardian,  had  vanished  into  air,  and,  in  the  sud- 
den alteration,  it  seemed  to  Joost  himself  that  he  had  lost 
tangible  hold  of  all  unkindness  whatsoever,  and  that  noth- 
ing remained^to  him  but  the  great  sense  of  the  life-long  in- 
jury he  had  done,  in  thought  and  word,  to  a  man  who  had 
suffered  years  of  continual  misrepresentation  on  behalf  of 
his  sister,  and  of  his  sister's  child. 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?  "  he  said,  raising  a  hot  face  from 
his  hands  and  throwing  back  his  hair.  "  What  does  it  mat- 
ter after  all  ?     The  result  is  that  he  made  me  miserable." 

It  was  true,  if  you  will.  Yet  he  sank  his  face  on  his 
hands  again  with  something  like  a  groan. 


272  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

BLINDFOLD  NOT  LOVE,  IF  LOVE  BE  BLIND. 

"  I  WAS  coming  to  you,  mamma,"  said  Joost,  reining  in 
liis  horses. 

"  And  I  to  you,"  rejilied  Mevrouw  van  Hessel,  from  her 
victoria.     "  I  got  your  note  this  morning." 

"  And  I  yours  an  hour  ago.     Shall  I  join  you  ?  " 

"  Let  us  get  out/'  said  Mevrouw,  in  French.  "  We  can 
walk  up  the  road  a  little,  and  talk  without  the  servants 
hearing." 

Joost  jumped  down  and  held  out  his  hand  to  assist  his 
mother-in-law  in  alighting.  They  strolled  up  the  dusty 
highway  side  by  side.  It  was  a  beautiful  September  after- 
noon, warm,  and  fresh,  and  exhilarating,  with  a  clear  white- 
flecked  sky  and  soft  tints  on  the  trees.  Neither  spoke.  It 
seemed  as  if  both  had  some  difficulty  about  beginning. 
Joost  stole  one  or  two  side-glances  at  Mevrouw  van  Hessel, 
still  portly  and  stately  of  bearing,  but  with  a  careworn  ex- 
pression on  her  features  and  intricate  lines  on  the  lofty 
forehead,  only  partly  hidden  under  braids  of  snow-white 
hair. 

"Your  letter  said  you  had  something  you  wished  to 
speak  to  me  about,"  he  remarked  at  last. 

"  Yes,  Joost,  I  have,  but  I  do  not  know  how  to  besrin ," 
she  answered.  "  I  am  so  afraid  of  offending  you.  It's  a 
difficult  matter  for  old  people  like  me  to  interfere  with  you 
young  ones,  and  it's  especially  unwise  of  parents  to  meddle 
in  any  way  in  the  married  life  of  their  children.  If  I  had 
not  been  so  convinced  of  that,  I  should  have  spoken  about 
it  long  ago." 

"  Fie,  mamma ;  that  was  not  right  of  you,"  said  Joost 
kindly.  "  Surely  you  have  a  claim  to  be  heard,  if  you  deem 
it  advisable.     You  must  speak  now,  at  any  rate." 


BLINDFOLD  NOT  LOVE,  IF  LOVE  BE  BLIND.  273 

"  I  must,"  said  Mevrouw,  "  or  I  should  not  have  broached 
the  subject  at  all.  But,  Joost,' — she  turned  round  and 
looked  full  in  his  face — "  I  warn  you,  I  am  going  to  inter- 
fere and  give  advice.  Can  you  bear  it  from  me  ?  If  not, 
better  tell  me  at  once,  and  we'll  say  no  more  about  it." 

"  I  can  bear  a  good  deal  from  Agatha's  mother,"  said 
Joost.  "  For  I  know  that  her  one  thought  is  Agatha's  hap- 
piness." 

"  Yours  too,"  said  Mevrouw  quickly.  "  Yours  too,  most 
certainly,  for  you  are  my  son  also  now.  But  it's  Just  the 
happiness  of  you  both  I  want  to  speak  about.  Only  I  am 
so  afraid  of  implying  that  I  fancy  you  don't  try  to  make 
Agatha  happy,  which  is  just  the  last  thing  I  am  wanting  to 
say :  I  know  you  are  indeed  very  happy  together,  and  that 
ought  to  make  it  easier  to  tell  you  that  you  might  be  hap- 
pier still.  There.  It  is  out,  and  you  must  forgive  me.  I 
am  sure  you  might  be  haj^pier  if  you  gave  her  your  full  con- 
fidence, Joost." 

"  You  have^  reason  to  believe  Agatha  is  not  as  hapi^y  as 
she  might  be  with  me ! "  said  Joost  a  little  bitterly. 

"  There  you  rush  off  into  exti-avagances  at  once.  My 
dear  Joost,  I  used  to  think  myself  a  wonderfully  sensible 
Avoman  ;  I  have  begun  to  have  my  doubts  on  the  subject  of 
late  years,  but  surely  I  must  be  exceptionally  stupid,  if  I 
can  not  make  myself  plainer  to  you  than  that.  If  I  thought 
you  made  Agatha  unhappy,  or  if  she  had  si:)oken  to  me  on 
the  subject,  as  you  seem  to  infer  that  she  has,  should  I  have 
begun  this  conversation  with  you  at  all  ?  "  She  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm.  "  You  need  not  answer  me,  Joost.  Least 
of  all  need  you  furnish  me  any  explanation.  Only  it  ap- 
pears to  me  that  Agatha  is  unusually  depressed,  especially 
of  late. — Is  there,  perhaps,  some  trouble  about  this  election 
which  is  coming  on  next  week? — and  I  should  say — you 
must  forgive  a  mother  ?  Nothing  but  a  mother's  love  for 
her  child  would  make  any  one  speak  on  so  unpleasant  a 


274  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

subject,  but,  although  she  has  never  said  a  word  to  me  about 
it,  my  impression  is  that  you  are  keeping  something  back 
from  her  and  that  she  knows  it  is  so.  It  is  probably  the 
merest  trifle,  Joost,  and  therefore  it  seems  such  a  pity.  She 
has  not  been  well  these  last  weeks.  She  will  not  tell  you, 
perhaps,  but  she  is  decidedly  ailing.  Try  and  find  out  what 
is  troubling  her.  And  now  you  will  forgive  me,  will  you 
not? — and  we  shall  never  speak  about  it  again.  Tell  me 
what  it  is  that  made  you  ask  me  to  come  up  to  the  Castle." 

"  You  may  be  right,  mamma,"  said  Joost  gravely.  "  At 
any  rate,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  speaking  so  kindly 
about  it.  Believe  me,  I  am  in  a  very  difficult  position.  I 
must  first  get  quite  clear  in  my  own  heart  about  it  all !  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  I  should  find  no  time  to  think  till  this 
election  is  over.  Fortunately  it  is  close  at  hand  now.  The 
last  weeks  have  been  very  hard  weeks  for  me.  But  I  shall 
still  try  to  act  for  the  best. 

"  And  now  let  us  talk  about  something  else,"  he  contin- 
ued, changing  his  tone.  "  All  that  you  have  said  about  in- 
terfering between  married  people,  mamma,  is  most  true  and 
most  applicable  to  me.  I,  also,  have  been  hesitating  for 
some  time.  And  you  will  forgive  me — will  you  not  ? — if  I 
speak  now  ?  " 

Mevrouw  van  Hessel  stop|)ed  in  the  middle  of  the  road 
a,nd  stared  Joost  in  the  face.  The  two  carriages,  following 
slowly  some  fifty  paces  behind  them,  immediately  stopped 
too. 

"  It  is  only  this,"  Joost  went  on  hurriedly,  "  I  should 
like  to  be  quite  sure  that  jmpa  has  not  been  unfortunate  in 
money  matters.  1  have  feared  for  some  time  that  it  may 
have  been  so  from  what  he  has  said." 

"  Oh,  is  it  only  that  ?  "  said  Mevrouw  van  Hessel.  She 
had  been  asking  herself  if  Joost  fancied  he  had  discovered 
secrets  more  nearly  touching  her  matrimonial  happiness. 
She  would  have  laughed  at  him,  and  rightly,  in  that  case, 


BLINDFOLD   NOT  LOVE,   IF   LOVE  BE   BLIND.      275 

for  the  Burgomaster  had  quite  faults  enough  of  his  own, 
without  any  need  of  inventing  others  for  him.  She  drew 
herself  up.  "  Really,  Joost,"  she  said,  "  I  should  think  we 
had  better  leave  papa  to  manage  these  things  for  himself. 
He  is  the  best  Judge  of  his  own  financial  position,  surely." 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Joost  coloring.  "  You  must 
bear  with  me  now  in  your  turn,  mamma.  You  can  imagine 
it  is  far  from  agreeable  for  me  to  broach  this  subject.  And 
I  also  have  awaited^  not  weeks  but  months.  It  is  of  no 
direct  importance  to  me,  as  you  will  admit,  but  I  must  tell 
you  plainly  that  unless  somebody  stops  the  Burgomaster, 
you  will  be — ruined." 

It  was  best  to  call  things  by  their  names  in  dealing  with 
Mevrouw  van  Hessel.  Joost  knew  it.  She  bit  her  lips,  and 
walked  on  rapidly  for  some  moments. 

"  Let  us  see  exactly  how  we  stand,"  she  then  said.  "  It 
is  true  that  you  would  not  speak  without  good  reason.  You 
have  cause  to  believe  we  are  ruined  already.". 

"  I  do  not  mj  that.  I  do  not  know.  But,  if  possible,  I 
want  to  prevent  it.  I  want  your  permission — I  would  do 
nothing  without  that — to  go  with  Kees— " 

"  Does  Kees  know  ?  "  interrupted  Mevrouw  anxiousl}^ 

"  Not  yet,  I  think.  To  go  with  Kees  and  ask  the 
Burgomaster  to  let  us  see  exactly  how  matters  stand." 

"  He  will  not  do  so,"  said  Mevrouw. 

"  I  think  he  will.  I  believe  I  can  persuade  him.  Then, 
if  things  are  as  bad  as  I  fear,  we  must  insist  that  the 
administration  of  what  is  left  of  your  money  pass  into 
other  hands.  And  if  he  refuses  or  makes  new  debts,  we 
can  always  threaten  him  with — it  can't  be  helped — a  cura- 
torship." 

"  Never,"  said  Mevrouw. 

"  Remember,"  said  Joost  gently.  "  There  are  your 
daughters  to  think  of.  Agatha  is  provided  for.  Verrooy, 
I  suppose  has  also  a  sufficiency.     But  the  younger  girls — " 


270  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

She  signed  to  liim  to  desist.  They  walked  on  again  by 
each  other's  side. 

Presently  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  stopped.  "  So  be  it," 
she  said  firmly.     She  beckoned  to  her  coachman. 

"  Poor  Papa,"  she  added,  as  if  speaking  to  herself. 

"  Poor  Mamma,"  said  Joost.  He  took  her  hand  and 
would  have  bent  over  it,  but  she  drew  it  quickly  back. 
"  Xo  sympathy,"  she  said  in  a  hard  voice. 

The  victoria  drew  up  at  her  feet.  She  got  into  it  and 
then,  bending  over  the  side  as  Joost  lifted  his  hat,  she  burst 
out  in  rapid  French :  "  Oh  you  men,  you  men !  We  be- 
lieve in  you,  love  you,  trust  you,  serve  you  ;  we  live  for  you  ; 
we  would  die  for  you — and  you  repay  us!  I  thought  I 
knew  all  his  secrets,  and  no  doubt  I  knew  all — but  this  one. 
He  so  careful  to  smile  it  away ;  I  so  fond  to  ignore  it !  Go 
back  to  your  wife  and  tell  her  whatever  you  are  hiding. 
Better  the  worst  of  confessions  than  a  life  of  deceit !  Home, 
Jacob." 

The  victoria  drove  rapidly  off.  Joost,  crying  to  his 
coachman  to  begone,  struck  moodily  into  a  bypath  across 
the  fields. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Agatha  should  have  noticed  the 
alteration  which  had  slowly  come  over  him  in  the  last  fort- 
night. The  rest  which  had  followed  on  his  acquittal  of 
the  charge  of  murder  had  not  been  of  many  months'  dura- 
tion. And  the  successive  discoveries  he  had  made  with  re- 
gard to  his  uncle's  treatment  of  him  had  shocked  and  un- 
settled his  soul  to  its  very  foundation.  In  the  suddenness 
of  the  change,  he  now  exaggerated  the  old  man's  goodness, 
as  much  as  he  had  formerly  undervalued  it,  and  all  the 
anger  and  hatred  he  had  long  cherished  in  his  heart  turned 
rapidly  and  irresistibly  against  himself.  The  whole  atmos- 
phere of  unkindness  and  injustice  which  had  lain  so  thick 
around  his  youth,  seemed  to  fade  away'  and  dissolve.  He 
cauffht  at  it  in  vain,  and — foolish  man — would  have  striven 


BLINDFOLD   NOT   LOVE,   IF  LOVE   BE   BLLXD.      077 

to  retain  it,  but  he  only  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the 
sunshine  pouring  down  into  his  own  black,  ungrateful 
heart.  And  his  generous  nature — for  it  was  thoroughly 
and  affectionately  generous — accordingly  broke  loose  in  un- 
merited self-reproach.  At  first,  of  course,  the  discovery  he 
had  made,  largely  as  it  affected  his  uncle's  memory,  did  not 
influence  his  own  remorse  for  the  sin  he  had  committed,  for 
he  was  perfectly  conscious  that  it  is  not  a  rule  of  ethics  that 
you  may  injure  a  man  who  has  behaved  badly  to  you  but 
may  not  injure  the  man  who  did  well,  yet,  nevertheless, 
gradually  his  impressions  shifted  like  a  dissolving  view,  and, 
to  say  the  least  of  it,  his  altered  thoughts  of  the  Baron 
materially  inclined  the  plane  of  self-recognition  down  which 
his  heart  was  already  running.  And  Joost's  was  a  very 
human  heart.  It  did  not  work  out  its  problem  according 
to  the  rules  of  the  psychologists,  and  two  and  two  did  not 
always  make  four  in  it,  but  very  often  five. 

He  hated  himself  now,  not  with  the  pretty  half-pleased 
consciousness  4hat  he  was  properly  self -reproachful,  and  dis- 
tinguished shades  of  gray  where  most  people  talked  of  white, 
but  with  the  fierce  dissatisfaction  and  restless  self-contempt 
of  one  who  knows  that,  despite  the  scorn  within  him,  no 
human  being  can  ever  really  deserve  contempt  alone.  He 
hated  himself  as  a  man  of  purer,  nobler  aspirations  who  had 
lived  a  lie  and  loved  it  while  he  lived  it.  God  !  that  these 
hearts  of  ours  should  take  so  long  to  learn  that  wrong  is 
hateful,  not  only  because  we  have  been  taught  to  think  it 
so,  but  because  of  the  misery  it  brings  us  ! 

Joost  found  himself  a  prisoner — as  we  all  are  more  or 
less — in  the  environment  he  had  built  around  himself.  The 
next  step  was  not  only  difficult,  but  uncertain.  The  love 
he  owed  his  wife  came  into  consideration ;  the  happiness 
he  owed  her  —  to  her  who  liad  suffered  so  much  iov  his 
sake — no  less.  The  new  sjihere  of  usefulness  opening  up 
before  him — and  close  at  hand  now — with  its  special  attrac- 


278  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

tions  for  a  man  already  occupied  as  he  was,  could  not  be 
lightly  overlooked.  He  had  told  himself,  when  first  the 
news  was  brought  him,  that  this  time  the  summons  came 
from  a  higher  Power  than  human  intrigue,  and  that  he 
must  obey  it.  It  was  this  idea  which  had  chiefly  helped  to 
overcome  his  scruples.  He  may  be  pardoned  for  the 
thoug'ht.  For  he  had  been  nominated  in  an  entirely  new  and 
striking  manner — directly  by  the  people — and  the  trials  he 
had  gone  through  had  served  as  a  preparation  for  that 
nomination ;  with  his  income  of  twelve  thousand  a  year  he 
was  one  of  the  wealthiest,  and  therefore  one  of  the  most 
powerful  men  in  the  country ;  he  was  yearning  to  benefit 
those  who  would  elect  him,  his  head  full  of  schemes  both 
practical  and  unpractical.  Should  he  give  up  all  prospects 
of  future  utility,  should  he  destroy  his  wife's  felicity  for  an 
idea  ?  Would  he,  in  doing  so,  not  i-ather  disobey  the  Provi- 
dence which  had  led  him  thus  far  ?  He  paused  under  the 
trees  of  his  own  beautiful  home-park,  and  struck  his  hand 
against  his  forehead.  The  next  step  must  be  the  one  now 
before  him.  The  election  was  coming  on  in  a  few  days.  It 
must  come.  Till  then  he  could  do  nothing.  He  resolved 
to  let  much  depend  on  that.  And  would  not  his  success 
on  that  occasion  be  a  divine  answer  to  his  doubts,  a  message 
bidding  him  go  forward  in  God's  name  and  do  well  ?  For 
his  heart  recoiled  from  the  other  extreme. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE    ELECTIOlSr. 


A  Dutch  election  is  a  very  different  thing  from  an  En- 
glish one.     There  is  quite  as  much  excitement  and   anri- 


THE  ELECTION.  279 

mony ;  there  is  perhaps  less  bribery,  but  more  intimidation ; 
there  is  an  equal  amount  of  false  rej)resentation  of  the  candi- 
dates on  the  other  side.  All  that  is  unavoidable,  and  will 
remain  so,  as  long  as  men  are  men,  and  gold  is  gold.  We 
call  it  "  political  life  among  the  masses "  in  Holland :  in 
England  it  is  accounted  for — is  it  not? — by  the  fact  that 
"  party  feeling  runs  high  in  the  borough  "  ?  After  all  these 
nineteenth-century  communities,  big  and  little,  Celtic  and 
Saxon,  are  very  similar  in  their  tastes  and  distastes.  In  the 
autocratic  East  the  ignorant  multitude  still  venerate  the 
Czar,  and  the  great  Padishah;  the  West  has  grown  more 
cosmopolitan,  and  its  nations  blend  their  adoration  in  com- 
mon worship  of  the  same  Golden  Calf.  The  new  religion  is 
called  Democracy,  and  the  polling-days  are  its  high  festivals. 

But  whatever  happens  in  Holland  on  such  occasions, 
happens  behind  the  scenes.  There  are  no  placards,  no  rib- 
bons, no  banners,  no  musicians,  no  processions,  no  j)olliug- 
booths,  "  no  nothing,"  in  fact  of  all  that  goes  to  make  an 
English  electron  amusing. 

Carriages,  without  any  visible  emblem,  are  employed  to 
convey  lazy,  or  sick,  or  decrepit  electors  to  the  public  build- 
ing in  which  the  usual  urn  has  been  set  up  for  the  votes. 
Unwilling  or  half-hearted  individuals  are  hunted  up  in 
their  homes  and  reminded  of  the  duty  they  owe  Church 
and  State.  For  tlie  political  struggle  in  Holland  unavoid- 
ably turns  almost  entirely  on  the  question  "  Orthodox  or  lib- 
eral in  matters  of  religion?  "  Circumstances  have  so  shaped 
the  destinies  of  the  country  that  for  the  present  no  other 
battle-ground  seems  possible.  We  can  not,  unfortunately, 
agree  beforehand  on  the  stakes  of  our  political  tourna- 
ments, or  the  English  would  never  have  chosen  "  home  rule." 

The  contest  is  intense  with  all  the  vindictiveuess  and  in- 
tolerant entliusiasm  of  religious  dissensions,  but  tlie  Dutch 
are  a  quiet  people,  and  their  animosities  lie  low.  The  for- 
eigner wlio  arrived  in  one  of  their  cities  would  certainly  not 


280  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

know  that  an  election  was  going  on  there  and  a  certain 
number  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  itself — the  quiet  old 
maids  and  the  happy  people  who  never  read  the  papers,  and 
do  not  know  whether  the  Clericals  or  the  Liberals  are  in 
power — remain  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  fact  from  first  to 
last.  The  whole  city  retains  its  wonted  aspect ;  only  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  the  "  bureaus  "  a  line  of  silent, 
determined  looking  individuals  may  be  perceived  slowly 
filing  past  the  solemn  officials,  with  their  voting-]3apers 
clenched  tightly  in  their  hands.  And  drunkenness  there  is 
none. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  set  apart  for  the  voting  in  the 
chief  town  which  had  nominated  Joost — his  was  a  by-elec- 
tion, you  remember,  caused  by  an  unexpected  vacancy — the 
candidate  had  come  down  to  Heist,  so  as  to  be  more  within 
reach  of  the  telegrams  which  came  pouring  in  as  the  votes 
were  counted.  There  was  more  opposition,  after  all,  than 
people  had  thought  possible  at  first.  The  side  which  had 
not  proclaimed  Joost  as  their  candidate — merely  because  the 
others  were  beforehand — had  tried  in  vain  to  get  him  to 
formally  accept  their  jjolitical  programme  in  all  its  particu- 
lars, none  the  less  ;  and,  when  this  failed  them — he  had  taken 
no  definite  engagements  upon  him,  even  with  regard  to  the 
Club  which  was  pushing  him — they  quickly  put  forward  a 
man  of  their  own.  The  people  had  nominated  Joost ;  the 
choice  of  his  antagonists,  accordingly  immediately  fell  on  a 
large  employer  of  labor — and  that  divided  the  votes.  Many 
of  the  gentry,  too,  hesitated  about  giving  their  support  to 
Joost  Avenlingh — he  was  too  popular  a  man  to  their  taste — 
and  they  carried  their  unwilling  servants  and  tenants  with 
them.  The  new  idea  of  independent  selection  met  with  a 
good  deal  of  quiet  disapproval.  There  was  cause  enough 
then  to  scrutinize  anxiously  the  telegrams  which  succeeded 
each  other  in  intervals  of  a  few  minutes  only. 

Joost,  Kees  and  the  Burgomaster  sat  in  the  latter  gen- 


THE  ELECTION.  281 

tleman's  private  room  around  a  table  strewn  with  papers. 
Kees  had  a  great  sheet  before  him  on  which  he  was  Jotting- 
down  the  figures  as  they  altered ;  Joost  sat  with  his  arms 
crossed  and  his  lips  compressed ;  the  Burgomaster  lay  back 
in  his  chair  and  blew  rings  of  smoke  from  his  cigar.  Only 
four  or  five  days  ago — immediately  after  Mevronw  liad  given 
her  permission — Joost  had  brought  his  father-in-law  to  book 
in  Kees's  presence.  Mynheer  van  Hessel  had  protested  in- 
nocence at  first  and  righteous  indignation.  He  had  talked — 
with  his  hand  on  his  heart — about  "  integer  vitae  sceUrisqne 
purus  "  and  "  teaching  your  grandmother  to  suck  eggs," 
but.  when  Joost  took  him  aside  and  j^lainly  told  him  that  the 
settlement  of  that  little  bill  of  the  curatorship  and  the  con- 
tentment of  the  troublesome  Notary  depended  upon  this 
primary  arrangement,  he  acquiesced,  though  it  took  two 
hours  and  a  half  of  pleading  and  protestation  to  get  the 
truth  out  of  his  good-natured,  untruthful  old  head.  At  last 
it  became  plain  that,  if  Joost's  claim  were  sunk  altogether, 
enough  mights  be  saved  from  the  wreck  of  Mevronw  van 
Hessel 's  fortune  to  allow  the  family  to  live  on  quietly  with 
considerable  retrenchment.  The  money  must  henceforth  be 
managed  by  the  two  younger  men,  Mevronw  van  Hessel  to 
receive  the  interest  in  monthly  installments.  The  Burgo- 
master cried,  called  himself  a  bitterly  ill-used  old  creature, 
and  then — after  having  likened  himself  to  King  Lear — gave 
his  son  a  long  description  of  a  parody  of  the  tragedy  he  had 
seen  in  his  youtli,  and  roared  with  laughter  over  the  comical 
character  of  "  la  Irop  cordiale  Cordelie.''''  In  the  mean  time 
Joost  sat  ciphering  at  a  side-table.  When  he  brought  back 
his  terms,  the  Burgomaster  assented  under  protest ;  he  only 
sti})ulated  that  the  post  of  his  own  private  expenses  should 
remain  untouched.  "  I  can't  smoke  another  brand  of  ci- 
gars,^' he  said,  "  I'm  too  old ;  and  I  must  give  your  mother 
her  silk  dress  on  her  birthday,  Kees.  She's  had  it  for  the 
last  thirty  years,  and  she  couldn't  live  without  it." 


282  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

So  Joost  bought  the  repose  of  his  mother-in-law  aud  her 
daughters  for  eighty  thousand  florins. 

"  Why,  things  aren't  half  as  bad  yet  as  they  might  have 
been,"  said  Kees,  who,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  knew 
nothing  about  the  terms  of  this  compromise.  "  I  only  hope 
we  haven't  been  too  hard  on  the  poor  old  governor."  Joost 
went  and  told  Mevrouw  van  Hessel,  who  sat  anxiously 
awaiting  the  result  of  the  conference,  what  decision  they 
had  come  to.  The  carriage  must  be  sujoj^ressed ;  a  servant 
must  go,  if  possible,  and  one  or  two  laborers  also.  The 
dinner  parties  must  be  made  less  frequent  and  more  simple ; 
the  girls  must  give  up  a  large  part  of  their  allowance. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Mevrouw.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
the  sacrifice  was  too  little,  for  she  had  prepared  herself  for 
the  worst.  Joost,  looking  at  the  tall  reposeful  woman  won- 
dered whether  she  had  schooled  her  heart  to  the  work- 
house. Compared  to  what  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
from  her  birth,  this  new  life  would  be  penury,  misery, 
drudgery,  and  she  seemed  resolved  not  to  let  him  see  she 
disliked  the  idea.  The  Burgomaster  crept  in  with  a  rue- 
ful look,  and  kissed  his  wife  cautiously  on  the  back  of  her 
neck. 

"  Ichabod.  Ichabod,"  he  said.  "  The  glory  is  departed 
from  Israel.  And  as  for  the  carriage,  it  is  but  half  an 
economy,  for  we  shall  be  spending  two  thirds  of  the  money 
on  boots  and  cabs."  "  Half  "  and  "  two  thirds  " ;  the  con- 
fusion, by  a  comical  chance,  hapjiily  illustrated  the  worthy 
man's  ideas  of  finance. 

And  now  the  three  gentlemen  sat  together  in  the  Burgo- 
master's room.  That  unjjleasaut  little  discussion  about 
money-matters  was  never  more  alluded  to  between  them. 
And  for  the  moment,  at  any  rate,  each  one's  thoughts  were 
occupied  with  the  election.  Joost  himself,  carried  away  by 
the  excitement  and  that  craving  to  "  come  in  first  "  which 
overmasters  man  and  beast  in  every  contest,  was  "  in  it " 


THE   ELECTION.  283 

heart  aud  soul.  He  snatched  the  telegrams  and  tore  them 
open.     "  We  must  win,  Kees,"  he  said. 

"  Of  course  we  shall  win,"  replied  Kees. 

"  I  only  wish  Agatha  had  been  able  to  come  with  me." 

"  Is  Agatha  less  well  again  ?  I  thought  she  was  looking 
poorly,"  said  Kees,  "  she  has  got  quite  gloomy  of  late.  You 
must  cheer  her  up." 

"  Woman  is  the  weaker  vessel,"  interposed  the  Burgo- 
master sententiously ;  "  this  excitement  is  doubtless  telling 
upon  her.  They  are  not  able  to  bear  worry  as  we  are. 
Look  how  your  mother  fidgets,  Kees,  when  she  has  to  go  to 
the  station.     Agatha  will  be  all  right  when  this  election  is 


over." 


A  telegram  was  brought  in  as  he  spoke.  They  were 
counting  rapidly  over  yonder.  Joost — so  far — was  but  two 
or  three  hundred  votes  ahead  of  the  other  man.  There 
could  only  be  a  few  more  hundreds  to  count  altogether. 

"Why,  almost  every  elector  in  the  place  must  have 
voted,"  said  Kees. 

"  There  are  too  many  electors  now  by  far,"  grumbled  his 
father.  "  Things  were  better  in  my  day  when  only  those 
eould  express  their  opinion  who  had  something  to  lose  if 
the  voting  went  wrong." 

"I  don't  know,  papa,"  said  Kees.  "The  people  with 
something  to  lose  are  too  apt  to  think  themselves  the  only 
people  who  should  have  something  to  gain.  And  that's  my 
opinion." 

Another  telegram.  Only  three  hundred  more  voters  in 
the  district,  and  Joost  still  ahead ! 

"  How  many  votes  have  the  outsiders  ?  " 

"  There  will  be  a  second  ballot,"  cried  Joost,  fretfully. 
"  What  a  calamity !  Another  fortnight  of  suspense  !  I 
can't  stand  it." 

"To  think  of  its  being  so  contested,"  said  Kees.  "I 
should  never  have  thought  it  possible  at  first.     The  other 


284  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

side  have  fpnglit  bravely.  Do  you  know,  the  most  ridicu- 
lous thing  of  all  is  the  part  that  van  Asveld  has  sought  to 
play  against  you.  They  tell  me  he  has  made  himself  quite 
useful  to  the  others,  if  only  by  going  about  everywhere  and 
calling  you  a  murderer  and  telling  every  one  that  the  magis- 
trates do  not  believe  in  your  innocence.  And  to-day,  I 
hear,  he  has  been  driving  a  break  all  over  the  town  at  a 
frantic  pace,  bringing  up  voters  from  the  other  ends  of  the 
earth.  How  that  fellow  hates  you !  And  all  on  account  of  that 
money.     I  don't  believe  he  would  have  got  it  in  any  case." 

Another  telegram.  A  considerable  accession  of  votes  to 
Joost.  He  had  passed  the  absolute  majority.  More  than 
that,  he  had  already,  although  the  other  candidate  was  but 
a  couple  of  hundred  behind  him,  exceeded  one  half  of  the 
number  of  votes  which  could  possibly  be  registered,  even 
though  all  the  electors  of  the  district  should  avail  them- 
selves of  their  right.     He  was  elected. 

"  Elected !  hurrah ! "  cried  Kees,  throwing  up  a  pen- 
wiper— the  first  thing  he  could  lay  hold  of — and  catching 
it  as  it  fell.  The  Burgomaster  blew  out  his  most  perfect 
little  smoke-ring,  and  lovingly  watched  it,  as  it  floated  up 
toward  the  ceiling. 

"  The  world,  which  fools  so  foolish  call, 
Is  not  so  foolish  after  all," 

he  said;  "it  can  give  wonderful  proofs  of  sagacity  some- 
times. I  congratulate  you,  my  dear  Deputy,  from  the 
depths  of  a  father's  heart.  This  is  a  proud  moment  in  the 
annals  of  the  family." 

Joost  stood  motionless,  with  the  telegram  in  his  hand. 
"  It  is  God's  answer,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Kees  drew  the  slip  of  paper  out  of  his  hand.  "  Avelingh, 
3,010,"  he  read  hurriedly.  "  Possen,  2,770.  Others,  30. 
It's  all  right,  Joost.  There  are  only  six  thousand  electors, 
altogether,     Never  mind  further  telegrams." 


THE  ELECTION.  285 

"  I  must  be  off  home,"  cried  Joost ;  "  I  Avaut  to  tell 
Agatha.  Send  my  man  round,  please.  He  was  not  to  un- 
harness." 

"  Let  me  go  Avith  you,"  said  Kees.  "  Don't  be  afraid. 
I  sha'n't  intrude." 

"All  right,"  Joost  called  out.  He  was  already  in  the 
hall.  "  I'll  just  run  in  to  the  others,  and  then  we  can 
start." 

They  had  heard  his  voice  as  he  opened  the  door,  and 
they  all  came  streaming  out  of  the  drawing-room.  There 
wero.  acclamations  and  congratulations  and  hand-shakings 
innumerable.  The  servants  crept  up  to  the  top  of  the  stairs 
and  looked  across  curiously.  The  butler  ventured  further  into 
the  hall,  and  congratulated  the  family.  A  new  light  flickered 
in  Mevrouw  van  Hessel's  pale  eyes.  A  flood  of  brightness 
seemed  to  be  poured  out  on  the  whole  household  after  the 
depression  and  gloom  of  the  last  few  days.  For  the  excite- 
ment of  the  approaching  election  had  not  been  able  to  dis- 
pel the  heavinogs  which  the  family  misfortunes  had  brought 
in  their  train.  The  van  Hessels  were  glad  to  have  some- 
thing to  rejoice  at.  So  they  laughed,  and  shouted  :  "  Long 
live  the  Deputy!"  and  escorted  Joost  in  triumph  to  his 
carriage,  which  had  come  round  to  the  front  door. 

"  Mynheer  is  elected,"  cried  Kees  to  the  coachman. 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost,  as  he  stepped  in.  "  Drive  as  fast  as 
you  can  ! "  The  brougham,  with  the  two  brothers-in-law 
inside  it,  dashed  away  into  the  darkness  of  the  soft  autumn 
night. 

Kees  rattled  on  all  the  time  about  the  incidents  of  the 
struggle,  but  his  companion  answered  him  in  inconsequent 
monosyllables  only.  His  heart  was  overflowing  in  a  very 
triumph  of  rejoicing,  and  sparkling  with  the  intoxicating 
glitter  of  victory — like  a  goblet  of  champagne  newly  filled — 
all  a-tremble  with  its  own  golden  froth.  Victory,  victory 
for  this  bria;ht  delicious  moment!     Oh  that  ho  could  seize 


286  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

at  that  fleeting  experience,  and,  shivering  the  wine  glass, 
could  grasp  one  fair  fragment  in  his  hand  forever.  But 
the  golden  bubbles  fly  upward  and  burst  on  the  surface. 
Pooh,  it  was  not  the  broken  glass  he  desired,  but  the  wine 
that  tingled  in  it,  and  the  wine  is  best  for  drinking  when 
its  effervescence  is  stilled.  In  the  future,  the  calm,  hard- 
working future  now  oj^ening  up  in  the  distance,  the  true 
triumph  would  lie.  God  had  answered  him  and  had  bidden 
him  put  his  hand  to  the  plow  and  not  falter.  There  was 
work  to  be  done,  plenty  of  it,  for  those  with  heads — and 
above  all  with  hearts — to  do  it.  All  that  he  had  achieved 
for  the  toilers  of  his  own  province  till  now  was  as  nothing 
to  what  he  could  do  for  the  nation !  Work  for  the  poor  and 
the  oppressed,  the  wretched  factory  girls  and  the  little  chil- 
dren, the  paupers  in  the  workhouse,  the  unfortunates  in  the 
streets.  God  had  answered  him  and  had  said  to  him  :  "  Go 
forward  and  do  it."  Till  now  there  had  been  sorrow  enough 
in  his  life,  and  temptation,  and  trial.  They  were  prepara- 
tions for  the  sphere  of  usefulness  to  which  he  was  to  be 
called.  And  now  let  him  use  his  little  day,  while  ho 
could,  nothing  wavering.  The  night  cometh  in  which  no 
man  can  work !  He  leaned  back  in  his  corner,  his  whole 
frame  in  such  a  tremble  of  exultation  he  dreaded  lest 
Kees  should  see  it  and  laugh  at  him.  The  carriage  passed 
swiftly  up  the  avenue  to  the  Castle,  its  lamps  flashing 
on  the  great,  century-old  trees.  It  drew  up  before  the 
house. 

Joost  sprang  out.  The  great  door  was  thrown  open.  In 
another  moment  he  Avas  in  the  hall.  He  ran  to  the  draw- 
ing-room, and,  finding  it  empty,  passed  hurriedly  into  Aga- 
tha's boudoir.  A  lamp  was  burning  ;  a  small  fire  was  light- 
ed ;  her  books  lay  about  and  a  piece  of  unfinished  needle- 
work. She  was  not  there.  He  ran  back  to  the  hall.  Kees 
had  just  reached  the  mat.  "  Mynheer  is  elected,"  said  Kees 
to  the  manservant. 


THE  ELECTION.  28Y 

"  Where  is  Mevrouw  ?  "  cried  Joost  exnltingly,  as  he  hur- 
ried across  to  his  own  room  and  threw  open  the  door. 

The  servant  came  after  him.  Joost,  turning  suddenly, 
saw  that  the  man's  face  was  white  and  scared. 

"  Mevrouw  is  not  well,  Mynheer,"  said  the  servant. 
"  Mevrouw  is  upstairs.     The  doctor  is  with  her." 

"  The  doctor  !  "  Joost  had  dashed  across  the  vestibule 
again,  and  w\as  half-way  up  the  staircase  when  he  met  Doc- 
tor Kern.  That  gentleman  put  his  arm  through  his  and 
drew  him  down  again  into  his  own  room.  He  had  heard 
the  sound  of  wheels,  and  had  left  the  sickroom  to  meet  the 
master  of  the  house. 

"  What  is  it,  doctor  ?  "  cried  Joost.  "  Nothing  much, 
surely  ?    Let  me  go  to  her  ! " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  doctor  gravely,  "  not  in  this  con- 
dition. Calm  yourself.  Mevrouw  has  been  taken  unwell ; 
somewhat  suddenly.  I  am  glad  the  servants  had  the  good 
sense  to  send  for  me  immediately.  I  have  done  what  I  can. 
We  must  wait  Tind  see." 

"  But  what  is  it  ?  "  cried  Joost  impatiently.  "  She  was 
all  right  this  morning.     Only  a  little  tired,  she  said." 

"  Hardly  all  right,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  The  worst  of 
these  abominable  women  is:  they  toill  not  complain.  If 
they  would  only  cry  out  before  they  were  hurt,  as  we  men 
do,  they  would  never  get  into  any  such  scrapes." 

"  She  is  very  ill  ?  "  said  Joost.  "  She  is  dying?  She  is 
dead?" 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,  my  good  Heer.  No,  she  is  not  dead  yet. 
One  would  think  you  believed  I  had  buried  her  while  you 
were  away.  She  is  not  dying  either,  but  I  tell  you  the  whole 
truth.     She  is  certainly  ill." 

"  Let  me  go  to  her,"  said  Joost,  making  for  the  door. 

"  You  shall,  if  you  choose,  though  it  is  not  much  use, 
for  she  is  unconscious.  That  is  the  worst ;  I  can  not  get 
her  back  to  consciousness." 


288  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  What  is  wrong  ?  "  said  Joost.  "  For  God's  sake,  what 
is  wrong  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  said  the  doctor  gravely,  "  I  can  not  tell  you  defi- 
nitely. I  am  afraid  there  is  some  mischief  with  the  brain. 
Mevrouw  has  evidently  had  much  to  worry  her  lately.  She 
has,  of  course,  undergone  quite  exceptional  sufferings  at  the 
time  of  the  trial,  but  it  seems  as  if  the  results  would  have 
manifested  themselves  sooner  and  not  so  many  months  after- 
ward. Still,  there  is  no  saying,  and  probably  this  fresh  ex- 
citement about  the  election  has  completed  the  work.  '  In- 
flammation, Congestion,'  are  ugly  words,  but,  really,  we  need 
not  be  surprised  if  Mevrouw  were  to  have  a  serious  cerebral 
illness.  I  could  find  causes  enough  to  explain  it,  unless  in- 
deed— "  the  doctor  paused  and  cast  a  sharp  look  at  Joost. 
Was  it  accident  or  design  ? — "  unless  you  perhaps  can  ac- 
count for  this  special  attack  by  some  special  circumstance, 
Mynheer  Avelingh  ?  " 

"  She  came  through  the  trial  wonderfully  well,"  inter- 
posed Kees.  "  I  was  with  her  constantly  all  the  time.  It 
is  only  these  last  weeks  she  has  been  so  changed.  But 
while  Joost  was  in  prison  she  did  not  seem  to  suffer  physi- 
cally at  all." 

"  The  strain  may  have  been  all  the  greater,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"  I  don't  think  so.  She  was  so  convinced  of  his  inno- 
cence, you  see.  Showed  her  sense  by  never  doubting  for  a 
moment.  And  that's  sure  to  carry  you  through,  at  least  in 
my  humble  opinion.     It's  the  idea  of  guilt  that  kills." 

"  Doubtless."  said  the  doctor,  dryly.  "  Well,  well,  we 
must  hope  for  the  best.  I  have  to  go  back  for  something, 
but  I  shall  return  as  soon  as  I  possibly  can.  You  may  go 
upstairs,  if  you  like,  Avelingh,  but — as  I  tell  you — Mevrouw 
is  unconscious  and  will  probably  remain  so.  If  she  should 
begin  to  talk,  it  will  in  all  likelihood  be  nonsense.  You 
mustn't  mind  that.      I  have  told   her  maid  what  to  do. 


JOOST  SURRENDERS.  289 

Seems  a  seusiblc  woman,  that  maid.  Some  couucction  with 
Jan  Lorentz,  hadn't  she?  By  the  by,  do  you  know  any- 
thing of  Jan  Lorentz  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Joost,  huskily.  "  I  will  go  upstairs.  Come 
back  as  soon  as  you  can."  He  passed  into  the  hall.  "Ave- 
lingh  is  elected,  doctor,"  he  heard  Kees  saying.  "  It's  a  pity 
things  should  just  come  out  like  this.     Very  unfortunate." 

"  Elected,  is  he  ?  "  said  the  doctor.  "  I  suppose  I  should 
congratulate  him.  I  ought  to  have  asked  after  it.  I  really 
quite  forgot..  He  is  a  very  lucky  man  !  I  only  hope  his 
wife  will  some  day  appreciate  his  good  luck.  My  great  fear 
is,  van  Hessel — knowing  what  I  know — that,  if  she  has  such 
an  illness  as  this  and  recovers,  she  will  never  talk  sense  again 
in  her  life." 


*      CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

JOOST    SURRENDERS. 

Joost  Ayeltngh  went  up  to  his  wife's  room. 

The  doctor's  last  words  had  been  spoken  low,  but  Joost, 
stopping  for  a  moment  in  the  hall  to  pass  a  hand  over  his 
eyes  and  collect  his  bewildered  thoughts,  just  caught  them. 
He  stumbled  upstairs,  opened  the  bed -room  door,  and 
walked  in. 

God  had  answered  him.  There  lay  his  Avife,  white  and 
motionless,  with  staring,  meaningless  eyes,  under  the  white 
coverlet — unconscious,  insensible.  A  shaded  lamp  burned 
on  a  side-table  ;  Dientje,  the  maid,  rose  softly  from  her 
chair  near  it,  and  came  forward.  He  motioned  her  away — 
toward  the  adjoining  dressing-room — and  then  sat  down 
alone  by  the  bed. 

God  had  answered  him.     Tu  the  pride  of  his  heart  he 


290  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

had  souglit  himself  an  answer,  and  had  trinmphed  at  the 
thought  that  it  shoukl  be  a  pleasing  one.  But  the  very  fact 
of  his  yearning  for  a  sign  in  the  heavens  was  the  surest 
proof  that  the  oracle  in  his  own  heart  had  spoken  already. 
It  had  been  speaking  through  all  these  months,  as  each  suc- 
cessive experience  led  him  nearer  to  the  truth ;  all  the  shout- 
ing and  din  of  the  election  had  not  been  able  to  silence  its 
voice  completely;  and  now,  over  the  tumult  of  this  wild 
hour  of  false  exultation,  it  shrieked  aloud  !  The  intoxica- 
tion of  the  moment  died  away  from  him,  leaving  him  the 
more  dejected.  And  the  hatred  and  contempt  of  himself 
which  the  last  weeks  had  fostered  once  more  overflowed  his 
heart. 

God  had  answered  him.  He  sat  staring  at  the  senseless 
face  before  him,  and  he  read  the  answer  there.  He  did  not 
believe  in  such  connection  as  the  doctor  seemed  to  snatch  at 
between  Agatha's  illness  and  the  trial.  Living  with  her  day 
by  day,  he  had  seen  her  well  and  happy,  triumphant  even, 
in  the  recognition  of  his  innocence.  The  change  had  come 
suddenly ;  in  the  last  fortnight,  perhaps.  He  had  watched 
it ;  her  mother  had  spoken  of  it ;  her  brother — but  he  had 
watched  it,  and  seen  it  for  himself.  It  was  God's  reply  to 
all  his  lying  self-exculpation,  to  his  life  of  deceit.  The  curse 
of  her  race  would  fall,  surely  and  swiftly,  upon  this  innocent 
wife  of  his,  for  so,  mysteriously,  yet  wisely  doth  God  visit 
our  sins  upon  our  loved-ones.  Or,  in  his  mercy,  he  would 
take  her  to  himself  and  leave  her  husband  comfortless,  him 
whom  no  comfort  could  advantage,  and  whom  misery  alone 
yet  might  save.  But,  whatever  the  future  might  fashion,  it 
would  bring  them  separation — Joost's  heart  cried  out  that 
it  must  be  so,  and  the  last  words  the  doctor  had  spoken 
were  become  an  irrevocable  decree  to  him.  He  understood 
that  it  must  be  thus.  He  was  unworthy  to  live  longer  by 
the  side  of  this  woman  whom  he  cheated,  and,  whether  by 
death — to  relieve  lier — or  by  insanity — to  punish  him — she 


JOOST  SURRENDERS.  291 

would  pass  out  of  his  existence.  She  would  never  speak  to 
him  again.  Never  !  In  that  thought  he  first  realized  how 
unutterably  he  loved  her,  with  a  love  which  had  grown 
from  a  boy's  rash  fancy  for  a  pretty  face,  through  trials  and 
mutual  enjoyments  and  deepening  sympathies,  into  the  very 
essence  and  existence  of  the  soul.  And  yet  his  first  yearn- 
ing was  not  to  retain  her,  if  God  bade  her  pass  from  him  ; 
it  was  only  that — oh,  by  all  his  unworthiness  of  her,  by  his 
guilt  and  her  gentle  innocence,  by  his  passionate  love  and 
her  answering  affection — by  their  oneness — of  Tliy  giving, 
great  Father- — he  might  obtain  mercy  to  confess  his  iniquity 
in  her  sight.  For  death  was  not  death  to  him  in  that  mo- 
ment, nor  detachment  separation.  And  ere  she — his  soul's 
diviner  part — pass  on  to  fuller  purity  of  knowledge,  he 
would  gather  from  her  lips  that  she  had  learned  his  secret 
on  this  earth,  had  understood  it,  and  forgiven  him.  Kot, 
not  to  be  left  here  standing  with  eyes  that  can  not  pierce 
the  darkness,  and  yet  Avith  a  hope  that  told  the  loved  one 
loved  him  still,'^nd  now  read  the  soul  he  had  so  shrewdly 
veiled  before  her,  and  now — mayhap — mourned  forever  for 
a  unity,  high  and  holy,  broken  and  trodden  under  foot. 
Oh  God,  have  mercy ! 

He  sank  down  by  the  bed  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands.  And  in  the  untroubled  silence  his  heart  cried  aloud. 
It  was  of  God  that  he  must  obtain  forgiveness  in  the  first 
j)lace,  and  he  knew  it.  But  his  prayers,  in  that  turmoil  of 
feeling,  were  of  the  woman  he  loved. 

Agatha  lay  silent.  She  neither  spoke  nor  moved.  It 
seemed  natural  to  him  it  should  be  so.  It  was  as  he  had 
expected.  She  would  never  speak  to  him  again.  Never. 
And  his  secret  would  remain  his  alone. 

He  still  rested  his  face  on  his  hands  and,  as  he  knelt 
there,  his  whole  life  seemed  to  rise  up  before  him  in  its  se- 
quence.     And,  gradually  traveling  upward,   his   thoughts 
stopped  at  the  days  of  the  trial, 
s 


292  JOOST  AVELINGn. 

The  recollection  of  Jan  Lorentz  fastened  npon  liim. 
He  could  not  shake  it  off.  What  was  the  man  thinking  of 
at  that  moment  alone,  probably,  in  his  prison  cell  ?  What 
was  his  life  ?  What  were  his  griefs,  his  pleasures  ?  Did  he 
repent  of  that  night  in  which  his  heart  had  returned  to  its 
duty  and  he  had  released  Avelingh  at  the  cost  of  his  own 
liberty  ?  Who  shall  say  ?  He  got  up  and  went  into  the 
next  room.     The  maid  was  sitting  there. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  Jan  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 
She  started,  but  she  did  not  ask  what  Jan  he  meant. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  him  only  this  week,  Mynheer,"  she 
said,  "  he  says  he  is  well-cared  for  and  happier  than  he 
had  thought  a  man  could  be  in  jail.  He  says  he  is  hapj^ier 
than  he  has  ever  been.     He  says  he  is  at  rest." 

Joost  did  not  reply.  Even  while  the  maid  was  speak- 
ing, a  sudden  burst  of  loud  music  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
calm  evening.  He  tore  aside  a  curtain.  There  were  lights, 
and  moving  figures  under  them,  dancing  to  and  fro  among 
the  shadows  of  the  trees. 

A  procession  of  some  kind  was  coming  up  the  Avenue. 

Joost  ran  downstairs.  He  met  his  brother-in-law  in  the 
hall. 

"  Good  Heavens,  they're  coming  to  serenade  you,  Joost," 
cried  Kees.  "  What  will  do  you  ?  What  an  unfortunate 
moment !     How  is  Agatha  ?  " 

"  No  better,"  said  Joost.  "  Tell  them,  some  one,  to  stop 
that  confounded  music." 

A  servant  ran  out,  and  Joost  followed  on  to  the  terrace, 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  doing,  or  what  would  happen 
next. 

Tlie  crowd  with  their  torches  and  lanterns,  their  music 
and  banners,  were  already  in  front  of  the  house — they  had 
struck  up  within  a  few  paces  of  their  destination,  so  as  to 
make  their  surprise  more  complete.  The  appearance  of  the 
man  they  sought  was  tlie  signal  for  a  burst  of  cheering. 


JOOST  SURRENDERS.  293 

Cries  of  "  Long  live  Joost  Avelingh  !  Long  live  the  Dep- 
uty !  "  broke  forth  on  all  sides,  and  the  music  fell  in  with 
i\\Q  fanfare  which  Dutch  custom  prescribes  on  sucli  occa- 
sions. The  crowd  began  to  sing ;  "  Long  shall  he  live  in 
glory,"  the  Dutch  equivalent  to  "  For  he's  a  jolly  good  fel- 
low !  "  and  it  was  several  minutes  before  silence  could  be  re- 
stored. Ultimately,  however,  the  last  sounds  died  away.  A 
great  stillness  followed.  Everybody  expected  the  Deputy 
would  now  speak. 

J  cost's  voice  rose  clear  and  stern  on  the  hushed  air. 

"  Friends,"  he  said,  standing  on  the  terrace,  with  Kees 
a  few  paces  behind  him.  The  confused  glare  from  the 
torches  fell  on  the  stately  house  and  on  the  tall  form  and 
white  face  of  its  master.  "  Friends,  I  am  grateful  for  your 
kindness.  Believe  me,  I  am  truly  grateful.  But  do  not 
expect  me  to  say  much  to-night.  My  wife  is  lying  up 
there,"  he  i)ointed  with  his  right  hand — "  dying — perhaps 
already  dead.  And  I " — he  faltered ;  a  whirlwind  of  con- 
fusion swept  ^er  him. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said. 

The  crowd — amazed,  frightened,  thoroughly  disconcerted 
— turned  to  slink  away  by  twos  and  threes.  But  even  in 
that  moment  of  misery  he  could  not  bear  to  do  an  unkind 
action. 

"  My  brother-in-law  will  receive  you  in  the  stables,"  he 
called.  "  In  the  stables !  Me  you  must  excuse !  See  they 
get  what  they  want,  Kees,"  he  said,  "  beer  and— something." 
And  he  crept  upstairs  again. 

"  Long  live  Joost  Avelingh  !  Long  live  the  Deputy ! " 
the  words  went  ringing  in  his  ears  still.  They  had  always 
seemed  very  sweet  to  him.  Praise,  love,  admiration — the 
very  ecstasy  of  living.  He  pressed  his  clammy  forehead 
against  the  window-pane  and  looked  out  upon  his  broad 
acres  lying  in  the  shadows,  and  his  heart  within  him  grew 
strangely  still. 


29i  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

He  turned  away,  and  stood  one  moment  gazing  down  at 
the  motionless  face  uplifted  toward  him.  And  then  he  flung 
himself  down  by  the  bed  in  an  agony  of  tears. 

"  0  God,"  he  cried,  "  I  surrender.  I  surrender.  I  have 
striven  in  vain  to  expiate  my  own  faults,  to  shape  my  own 
life  wisely,  to  do  well  in  thy  sight.  And  I  have  failed.  I 
am  guilty  !  I  am  guilty  !  Have  mercy  upon  me  a  sinner, 
0  God  ! ' 

He  lay  there ;  how  long  he  never  knew.  He  was  re- 
called to  the  world  around  him  by  a  soft  voice  saying 
"  Joost." 

He  lifted  up  his  head.  Meaning  had  again  returned  to 
those  staring  eyes.    They  were  looking  affectionately  at  him. 

It  did  not  surprise  him  that  it  should  be  so.  He  under- 
stood that  his  prayer  had  been  answered,  and  that  the  spirit, 
already  drawn  toward  another  world,  had  been  checked  on 
its  threshold  to  hold  parley  with  him  once  more. 

And,  as  one  who  speaks  a  last  word  to  the  dying,  he 
said  solemnly :  "  Agatha.  Listen  to  me.  I  am  innocent  in 
the  sight  of  man,  and  guilty  in  the  sight  of  God." 

She  made  an  effort  to  speak,  and  failed.  She  lifted  her 
head  slightly,  and  tried  again.  And  the  words  came  back 
to  him  in  a  trembling  whisper. 

"  I  knew  it,  Joost." 

And,  wonderful  to  relate,  in  spite  of  all  his  fears  of  the 
last  hour,  that  also — in  that  moment — now  she  said  it,  did 
not  seem  strange  to  him. 

She  smiled  to  him,  a  pitiful  little  smile,  full  of  hope  and 
comfort,  and  moved  her  hand.  And  he  seized  it,  and 
clasped  it,  and  held  it  tight  on  the  coverlet,  and,  laying  his 
head  down  upon  it,  he  covered  it  with  his  kisses  and  his 
tears. 

"  It  is  the  doctor,"  whispered  Dientje  at  the  door.  "  The 
doctor  has  come  back,"  said  Kees. 

Joost  Avelingh  came  out  into  the  light. 


JOOST  SURRENDERS.  295 

"  She  is  better,  Doctor,"  he  said.  "  She  will  never  go  mad. 
I  have  fought  with  myself  for  her,  and  regained  her  from 
God." 

He  went  downstairs  slowly,  with  Kees  still  close  beside 
him. 

"  I  must  see  van  Asveld  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

«  Van  Asveld?  My  dear  fellow?  What  in  the  world?—" 

"  Yes,  I  must  see  van  Asveld.  Agatha  agrees,  for,  when 
I  said  '  van  Asveld  ? '  she  nodded  assent.  It  had  better  be 
to-morrow.  -  Will  you  bring  him  up  here  to-morrow,  Kees  ? 
I  can't  very  well  leave  the  house  just  now." 

"  But  he  won't  come." 

"  He  will.  Tell  him  it  is  on  most  important  business. 
In  connection  with  my  uncle.     He  will  come." 

The  doctor  came  running  down-stairs  after  them.  "  My 
dear  Avelingh,"  he  cried,  "  I  congratulate  you.  I  can't  un- 
derstand it.  But  she's  better;  there  is  no  danger  of  conges- 
tion now.  You  will  have  to  keep  her  very  quiet,  all  the 
same.  Perhaps  I  was  a  little  too  anxious,  but  she  certainly 
was  very  ill  when  I  came." 

Joost  turned  round  and  looked  at  him. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  so,"  he  said,  "  before  you  had  seen 
her?     We  are  nearer  to  God  than  we  know.  Dr.  Kern." 

"  We  are  not  near  to  God  at  all,"  said  Dr.  Kern  to  him- 
self, as  he  got  into  his  gig.  "  There  is  nothing  but  matter 
and  force,  and  the  two  produce  such  fools  as  Joost  Ave- 
lingh." 

The  doctor  himself  had  once  said:  "Then  God  help 
the  prisoner,"  but  perhaps  he  agreed  with  Beau  Liederlen : 
"  qne^  ^  Dieu  '  c'est  une  fagon  de  parler  clout  on  ne  pourrait 
plu>i  bien  se  dif<pense7\^^  Aiid  to  Joost  Avelingh,  kneeling 
far  into  the  night  by  his  Avife's  bedside,  came  the  revelation 
of  the  one  Reality  of  which  all  this  life  is  but  a  shadow  that 
recedes. 


296  JUOST  AVELINGH. 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

"could  we  do  else?" 

"And  you  are  willing  it  should  be  so,  dearest  ?  "  said 
Joost. 

"  Quite  willing." 

"  And  you  realized,  as  far  as  possible,  what  it  involves?" 

"  I  believe  so.  I  have  had  time  enough  to  think  about 
it." 

"  Only  since  yesterday  evening !  " 

"I  have  thought  about  it  before,  Joost." 

Joost  walked  to  the  window.  "  How  long  is  it,"  he 
asked  without  looking  at  his  wife,  "  since  you — since  you 
knew — about  this  ?     How  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

Agatha  smiled  faintly.  She  was  lying  back  on  a  sofa, 
still  looking  very  white  among  the  cushions.  "  I  learned  it 
in  a  foolish  manner,"  she  said,  "  in  such  a  simple,  old-fash- 
ioned, terrible  manner,  Joost" — she  shuddered  slightly — 
"  For  the  last  two  weeks,  or  perhaps  three,  you  have  been 
talking  about  it  in  your  sleep,  and  you  told  me  the  whole 
story  bit  by  bit.  I  didn't  understand  in  the  beginning,  but, 
after  the  first  night  or  two,  the  whole  thing  became  clear 
to  me.     And  then  I  understood  it  all." 

"  It  was  dreadful,"  she  continued  after  a  moment. 
"  Most  dreadful  of  all  to  think  you  were  keeping  it  from 
me.  We  can  bear  it  together,  Joost.  We  could  not  bear  it 
alone.  I  could  not.  You  see  how  it  has  been.  I  had 
strength  for  the  trial — but  not  for  this.  And  yesterday, 
somehow — I  do  not  know  how — I  felt  I  could  bear  it  no 
longer.  And  something  in  my  heart  gave  way  and  I  fell. 
And  I  remember  nothing  more,  but  hearing  beautiful  music, 
until  I  awoke  and  looked  into  your  eyes  and  knew  that  there 
was  nothing  between  us  any  more." 

Had  the  band  and  the  shouting — more  effective  than  all 


"COULD  WE   DO  ELSE?"  297 

the  doctor's  stillness  and  soothing — recalled  her  wandering 
senses  ?     It  were  impossible  to  say  for  certain, 

"  And  when  I  understood  it  all,  Joost,  1  understood  you 
for  the  first  time,"  said  Agatha.  "  And  so,  now  that  there 
is  communion  between  us  again,  darling,  this  avowal  has  not 
estranged  us,  but  brought  us  much  nearer  to  each  other, 
much  nearer.  And  therein  lies  cause  for  lasting  happiness. 
It  has  stood  between  us,  more  or  less,  through  all  these  years. 
And  now  nothing  shall  ever  come  between  us  any  more." 

"  And  you  are  willing  ?  "  said  Joost  again. 

"  I  am  willing  to- bear  all  consequences  with  you,"  replied 
Agatha,  "  could  I  do  else  ?     Or  less  ?  " 

"  Yet  I  ask  myself  :  have  I  a  right  of  my  own  free  will, 
to  condemn  you  to  such  a  punishment  ?  " 

"  A  punishment !  No,  Joost,  do  not  call  it  that.  It  is 
but  the  natural  development  of  our  actions,  surely.  Noth- 
ing else — as  I  say — nothing  less,  would  satisfy  us.  Let  us 
seek  satisfaction  first.  We  have  been  miserable  long 
enough." 

"  We  !  "  said  Joost.  "  I !  No  !  I  can  not  say  that 
either ;  I  have  been  guilty,  and  we  have  been  miserable.  I 
should  be  happy  to-day,  were  it  not  for  the  thought  of  the 
sorrow  I  have  brought  upon  you." 

"  The  sorrow  and  the  Joy,  Joost,"  said  Agatha.  She  was 
too  weak  to  rise  from  her  cushions,  but  she  held  out  both 
her  hands  to  him.  "  The  sorrow  and  the  joy.  Do  not  try 
to  separate  what  is  interwoven  for  all  time.  And  whatever 
the  future  brings  us,  we  will  rejoice  to  bear  it  together,  my 
husband." 


298  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

WHAT   SHOULD    IT    PEOFIT   A   MAN? 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost  to  the  servant  who  knocked  at  the 
door.     "  Show  the  gentleman  into  my  study." 

He  came  forward  once  more  to  his  wife's  sofa.  "  It  is 
to  be  then  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  looking  full  into  his  face.  He 
started  involuntarily.  "  No,  it  is  not  to  be,  if  you  hesitate 
over  it.  Let  us  not  be  sentimental.  Let  us,  least  of  all, 
make  sacrifices  for  an  idea  which  later  reflection  might  dis- 
prove. If  there  be  a  choice  in  our  hearts,  an  alternative, 
we  will  not  do  it,  Joost." 

"  I  hesitated  for  your  sake,  Agatha,"  said  Joost ;  and  he 
passed  into  the  next  room. 

Kees  van  Hessel  stood  near  the  writing-table,  with  a 
puzzled  look  on  his  face.  By  the  mantelpiece  sat  van  As- 
veld,  looking  puffy,  and  blown,  and  discontented.  The  fat 
Jonker  was  beginning  to  bear  visibly  about  him  the  effects 
of  his  intemperate  habits.  He  rose,  slowly  and  awkwardly, 
as  the  master  of  the  house  entered.  Joost  Avelingh  eyed 
him  with  ill-concealed  disgust. 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment.  "  We  have  come,  you  see," 
said  Kees  at  length,  "  as  you  wished."  He  was  glad  to 
break  the  embarrassing  silence. 

"  Yes,"  said  Asveld,  "  and  I  am  waiting  to  hear,  Avel- 
ingh, what  are  your  reasons  for  requesting  me  once  more  to 
enter  this  house  which  is  full  of  such  painful  memories  to 
me,  as  you  are  aware,  and  in  which  I  had  hoped  never  to  set 
foot  again." 

"  You  must  excuse  my  deferring  my  explanation  a  few 
minutes  longer,"  answered  Joost ;  "  I  am  waiting  for  a 
fourth  jDcrson  who  was  to  be  here  by  eleven.  It  is  now  five 
minutes  past.     I  believe  I  see  the  gig  coming  up  the  avenue." 


WHAT  SHOULD  IT  PROFIT  A  MAN?  299 

Kees  opened  his  eyes  still  wider.  Avelingh  stood  with- 
out taking  any  further  notice  of  his  visitors,  and  the  Jon- 
ker — after  having  waited  in  vain  to  be  offered  a  seat — sank 
back  into  his  easy-chair  again.  Presently  the  Notary 
walked  into  the  room. 

After  the  preliminary  greetings — while  the  Notary  still 
stood  pulling  off  his  gloves  and  staring  from  one  to  the 
other,  wondering  what  he  had  been  sent  for — Joost  began 
speaking,  suddenly,  without  further  preparation. 

"  Mynheer  the  Notary,"  he  said,  you  will  admit,  I  doubt 
not  that  the  proceedings  in  the  trial  in  which  you  also  ap- 
peared as  a  witness  against  me  ended  with  my  complete 
acquittal  of  the  charge  that  had  been  trumped  up  against 
me  and  that  henceforth  the  law  can  not  touch  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  Mynheer  Avelingh,"  said  the  Notary. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Kees. 

"  And  you.  Mynheer  van  Asveld,"  continued  Joost,  "  you 
will  not,  I  presume,  object  to  that  conclusion?  " 

"  How  can  I  ? "  murmui-ed  Arthur.  "  You  know  my 
private  opinion.     What  foolery  is  this  ?  " 

"  And  furthermore,"  said  Joost,  again  addressing  the 
Notary,  "  you  will  admit  that,  whether  I  had  been  con- 
demned at  the  trial  or  not,  I  should  have  always  been,  as  I 
am  now,  the  lawful  possessor  of  tlie  whole  fortune  left  by 
my  uncle  unconditionally.     Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  It  is,  my  dear  Heer,"  said  the  Notary,  "  but  I  can  not 
understand — " 

"  And  you,"  Joost  went  on,  turning  to  Arthur,  "  you 
know  it  is  so — do  you  not  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  right  to  put  me  meaningless  questions," 
replied  the  Jonker,  "  and  I  sliall  not  answer  them.  Is  this 
what  you  wanted  me  for  ?  " 

"  The  meaning  is  coming,"  said  Joost.  "■  My  property 
being  unconditionally  ray  own,  I  can  do  wliat  I  like  with 
it;  can  I  not,  Notary?" 


300  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

"  Always  subject  to  the  restrictions  of  the  law,"  answered 
the  Notary.     "  Yes." 

"  That  being  clearly  understood,"  Joost  went  on,  "  and 
all  the  circumstances  being  fully  admitted  on  both  sides, 
I  wish  to  state  that  it  is  my  intention  to  make  over  to  the 
Jonkheer  Arthur  van  Asveld  here  present,  without  any 
reservation  whatever,  the  whole  estate  real  and  personal, 
which  I  inherited  from  my  uncle  the  Baron  van  Trot- 
sem." 

"  Joost,"  cried  Kees,  "  are  you  mad  ?  " 

"  What  nonsense  is  this '? "  said  Asveld  rising  in  a  fury. 
"  I  ask  once  more ;  have  I  been  sent  for  here  to  be  made  a 
fool  of  ?  You  mistake  me  very  much,  Heer  Deputy,  if  you 
think  you  can  play  off  your  jokes  upon  me  !  "  he  made  for 
the  door. 

"  Stay,"  said  Joost.  "  It  is  no  joke,  but  terrible  earnest. 
If  you  wait,  I  shall  prove  it  to  you.  The  Notary  will  draw 
up  the  necessary  deeds,  and  you  shall  see  me  sign  them." 

"  But,  my  dear  Heer  " — began  the  Notary. 

"  The  Notary  will  do  no  such  thing,"  cried  Kees.  "  He 
will  understand  at  once  that  delay  is  necessary — "  he  cast 
a  meaning  side-glance  at  the  little  gentleman  in  black,  who 
quietly  returned  it.  "  Of  course  such  arrangements  may 
sometimes  be  desirable,  Joost,  but  they  render  a  number  of 
formalities  indispensable.  A  list  of  the  property  will  have 
to  be  made  out.  Van  Asveld  may  thank  you  for  your  kind 
intentions  on  his  behalf,  and  then  we  had  better  disperse 
in  expectation  of  further  arrangements.  Nothing  can  be 
done  to-day,  can  it.  Notary  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  Notary.  "  I  will  see  about 
getting  the  necessary  papers  ready,  and  that  will  take  me 
some  weeks ;  it  is  unavoidable." 

"  Damn  me,"  cried  Arthur,  "  I  won't  thank  anybody 
for  nothing.  You  may  carry  off  your  mad  brother-in-law 
to  tlie  Asylum  as  best  you  can,  van  Hessel,  but  you  needn't 


WHAT  SHOULD  IT  PROFIT  A  MAN?      301 

look  for  help  from  me !  And  now,  sir,  mad  or  not,  I  shall 
trouble  you  to  get  away  from  that  door." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joost,  without  moving,  "  you  think  me 
mad,  Kees,  or  unstrung,  or  excited  or  something.  Think  ifU 
be  all  right  to-morrow.  You  are  quite  mistaken.  You  can 
go  in  there,  if  you  like  and  ask  Agatha ;  she  knows  what  I 
am  doing.  I  intend  to  give  up  this  wretched  inheritance, 
and  if  you'll  listen,  I  will  give  you  my  reason.  Stay 
there,  you,"  he  cried,  addressing  Arthur,  "I  could  knock 
you  down  wiih  half  a  hand,  and  I  shall  do  it,  if  you  move." 

The  words  were  true,  but  Arthur  was  the  last  man  to 
pocket  such  an  insult.  He  dashed  at  the  door ;  Kees  Hes- 
sel  flung  himself  between  the  antagonists.  "  No  quarrel- 
ing," he  said.  "  AYe  want  cool  heads  here,  and  that's  my 
opinion." 

"  Have  you  all  forgotten  the  trial  ?  "  asked  Joost,  des- 
perately, "  and  the  charges  brought  against  me  ?  My  mo- 
tives for  my  action  are  simple  enough,  when  one  comes  to 
think  of  it.  ~I  have  reasons  for  being  positively  certain 
that  my  uncle's  warnings  were  not  mere  empty  threats,  but 
that  he  was  fixedly  resolved  on  the  day  of  his  death  to  make 
a  will  leaving  all  his  possessions  to  van  Asveld,  in  case  I  at 
any  time  married  the  woman  who  is  now  my  wife.  I  have 
in  the  last  few  weeks  learned  particulars,  utterly  unsuspected 
till  then,  which,  while  explaining  my  uncle's  course  of  action 
and  showing  me  that  I  had  been  wrong  to  look  upon  it  as  a 
passing  caprice  at  the  time,  have  convinced  me  more  fully 
still  of  the  immutable  cliaracter  of  his  resolve.  Had  he 
lived  an  hour  or  two  longer  van  Asveld  would  have  been  in 
my  place.  For  I  should  certainly  have  married  all  the 
same,  if  ever  I  could  have  done  so.  He  did  not  live  an 
hour  or  two  longer ;  never  mind  why  not,  but  for  me  the 
moral  obligation  remains  the  same." 

"  You  have  been  slow  to  discover  it  then,"  said  Arthur. 

"  True,"  replied  Joost,  humbly.     "  You  7nust  forgive  me 


302  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

for  that.  And  also  for  the  actual  pecuniary  loss  the  delay 
may  entail.  Remember,  you  have  no  legal  right  to  a  far- 
thing. And  I  stipulate  that  you  receive  the  estate  and  the 
personalty  as  they  now  stand.  You  will  find  them  intact, 
but  the  interest  has  been  spent,  and  with  regard  to  that 
you  will  ask  no  further  questions.  For  myself  I  shall  re- 
tain nothing  but  such  trifles  of  personal  property  as  my  wife 
may  wish  to  take  away  with  her.  At  the  time  of  my  uncle's 
death  he  had  in  his  keeping  my  own  small  private  fortune, 
inherited  from  my  father,  amounting  to  three  thousand 
three  hundred  florins  odd.  I  consider  it  my  duty  to  retain 
that  also.  I  do  so,  because  I  am  entitled  to  the  money,  and 
because  it  is  incumbent  upon  me  not  to  leave  my  wife  en- 
tirely destitute.     You  can  take  the  rest." 

"  What  am  I  to  believe  ?  "  asked  Arthur,  turning  to  the 
Notary. 

"  Accept  it,"  cried  Kees  in  despair,  "  accept  it,  and  be- 
lieve what  you  like  afterward.  Believe  what  every  sensible 
man  would.  Very  well,  Joost,  we  quite  understand  you, 
and  it  is  undoubtedly  true.  And  the  notary  will  arrange  it 
all  for  you  without  loss  of  time." 

"  I  am  not  a  child,"  said  Joost  fiercely,  "  to  be  humored 
and  played  with.  I  am  a  man  in  full  possession  of  my  senses 
and  I  am  acting  advisedly  and  within  my  legal  rights  when 
I  fling  away  this  cursed  money  for  another  man  to  pick  up. 
"Will  you,  Sir  Notary,  draw  up  this  deed  or  shall  I  send  for 
another  man  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Notary,  "  if  you  wish  it,  and  if  you 
can  rationally  explain  it — it  is  very  exti-aordinary — Nothing 
of  the  kind  has  ever  occurred  to  me  before  during  my  long 
practice.  And  I  must  be  sure — forgive  me  Mynheer  Ave- 
lingh  " — he  edged  away  a  little  behind  Kees — "  I  must  be 
sure  that  I  am  dealing  with  a  sane  man  before  I  proceed." 

"  You  may  well  make  that  proviso ! "  cried  Kees. 
"Good  heavens,  Joost,  what  has  happened  to  you  ?     Let 


WHAT   SHOULD  IT   PROFIT  A   MAN?  303 

us  go  to  Agatlia  and  talk  the  matter  over  with  her,  as  you 
say.  Do  you  forget,  man,  how  you  are  beggaring  her,  rob- 
bing her  in  this  manner  of  the  very  means  of  subsistence? 
Heer  Notary,  you  can  see  he  is  not  himself.  He  has  been 
overexcited  by  the  election.  We  will  talk  of  it  again  to- 
morrow." The  poor  fellow  was  beside  himself  with  anger 
and  distress. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Kotary,  "  we  will  talk  of  it  again  to- 
morrow." 

"  We  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Joost.  "  You  will 
tell  me  now,  sir,  before  you  leave  the  room,  whether  you  in- 
tend to  draw  up  this  deed  of  gift  or  not.  It  is  to  be  a  deed 
of  gift,  you  understand,  free  and  unconditional,  of  tlie  estate 
real  and  personal,  as  it  stands  at  present." 

"  I  can't  write  it  out  here  at  this  moment,  with  you  wait- 
ing," said  the  Notary  peevishly.  "  I  haven't  got  the  stamped 
paper." 

"  I  do  not  expect  you  to  do  so.  I  give  you  a  day  or  two ; 
make  it  as  aiiort  as  possible.  But  I  must  know  before  you 
go  whether  you  intend  to  do  the  work  for  me." 

"  Why,  yes,  why  should  I  not  ?  "  said  the  Notary  hesitat- 
ingly. "  I  as  well  as  any  other  man ;  you  can  always  see 
later  on  whether  you  sign  it  or  not,"  he  added,  his  eyes  once 
more  seeking  van  Hessel's  face. 

"  Rather  than  have  you  sign  such  a  document  as  that  I'll 
call  a  family  council,"  cried  Kees.  "  I'll  have  you  put  un- 
der a  curator  for  madness  or  imbecility,  or  prodigality,  one 
of  the  three  !     The  third  in  any  case. " 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Kocs,"  answered 
Joost  sadly,  "  not  when  you  know  the  peculiarities  of  the 
case.     And  you  wouldn't  succeed  if  you  tried." 

"  I  have  stuck  to  you  through  everything,  but  I  desert 
you  now,"  shouted  his  irate  brother-in-law.  "  Have  you 
considered  for  a  moment  what  you're  doing  ?  Is  this  money 
which  you  are  spending  wisely  for  the  benefit  of  thousands 


304  JOOST  AVELINGH, 

to  pass  into  the  hands  of  a  fellow  like  that," — he  pointed  to 
van  Asveld — "  a  drunkard,  a  profligate  !  No,  you  need  not 
make  faces  at  me,  sir ;  it  is  true  enough  and  you  know  it. 
You  are  all  tliat  and  more.  And  if  I  were  to  tell  you  so  to 
your  face  at  the  Club,  you  wouldn't  have  the  heart  to  deny  it." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,"  interposed  Joost,  "hut  I  can't 
help  it.  The  money's  not  mine.  I'm  not  so  sure  it  is  de- 
sirable it  should  be  his,  but,  once  more,  I  can't  help  it.  I 
give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  whether  it  would  really 
have  been  his,  if  my  uncle  had  lived.  I  am  confident  it 
would  not  have  been  mine." 

"  Then  that  is  settled,"  said  the  Notary,  who  was  getting 
impatient  and  had  another  engagement.  "  I  draw  up  the 
deed ;  and,  by  the  time  it  is  ready,  I  shall  see  how  matters 
stand." 

"  And  in  the  mean  time  ?  "  queried  van  Asveld. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  sir,"  said  Joost,  turning  fiercely  upon 
hira,  "  I  must  bid  you  hold  your  peace  and  wait." 

"  Bid,  bid,"  answered  Arthur,  "  I  do  no  man's  bidding. 
Not  even  a  madman's." 

Joost  came  close  to  him.  "  I  have  only  this  to  tell 
you,"  he  said,  "  you  have  heard  my  intentions.  If  I  find 
that  you  whisper  one  word  of  them  to  any  living  soul  before 
I  let  you  do  so,  I  refuse  to  sign  ;  so  keep  a  quiet  tongue  in 
your  head.     And  don't  drink." 

"  And  I  have  this  to  answer,"  replied  Arthur ;  "  I  don't 
believe  you,  and  when  I  find  out  for  certain  that  you  sent 
for  me  here  to  insult  me  and  make  a  fool  of  me,  I'll  have 
my  revenge,  even  if  I  become  a  murderer  for  it,  like  you." 

"  And  how  a1)out  the  Deputyship,  my  dear  Mynheer 
Avelingh  ?  "  asked  the  lawyer,  pausing  in  the  door- way. 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  Joost. 


JOOST  MEETS  VAN  ASVELD  FOR  THE  LAST  TIME.  305 
CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

JOOST    MEETS   VAK   ASVELD    FOR    THE    LAST    TIME. 

It  was  a  fortuiglit  later.  Agatha  and  Jo  est  were  once 
more  together  in  the  old  sitting-room — his  room — in  which 
they  had  spent  so  many  happy  evenings  during  the  dozen 
years  of  their  married  life.  This  was  to  be  the  last  day  of 
their  stay  at  the  Castle.  To-morrow  they  would  leave  it  for- 
ever. They  had  succeeded  in  convincing  Kees  after  long 
discussions  and  expostulations — "  half  convincing  him  "  were 
perhaps  the  correcter  expression — that  they  were  acting  for 
the  best.  He  had  given  way  unwillingly,  when  all  the  circum- 
stances had  been  made  known  to  him,  and  had  consented  to 
keep  their  secret,  as  they  wished,  till  Joost  should  think  fit 
to  proclaim  it.  And  now,  after  much  hesitation  and  pro- 
crastination, the  necessary  deeds  had  been  duly  drawn  up, 
signed  and  registered ;  the  last  formalities  had  been  accom- 
plished tha^  morning,  and,  in  fact,  Arthur  van  Asveld  was 
actually  owner  of  Trotsem  Castle  already,  with  the  right  to 
take  possession  to-morrow.  Joost  had  demanded  to  be  al- 
lowed to  remain  till  to-morrow.  For  to-morrow  he  would  be 
admitted  to  take  his  seat  as  Member  of  the  States-General. 
He  had  taken  the  necessary  steps  to  obtain  that  admission. 
He  had  been  flooded  with  congratulations,  letters  and  cards 
and  addresses,  from  all  parts  of  the  country  and  he  had  quiet- 
ly received  them  and  laid  them  on  one  side.  "  Let  me  wait  ?  " 
he  replied  to  all  Kees's  inquiries,  "  Grant  me  at  least  this  one 
satisfaction  that  I  may  choose  my  own  moment  to  speak." 

"  And  you  are  not  sorry  Agatha?  You  don't  regret  it? " 
Joost  was  saying  on  that  last  evening.  It  was  the  fiftieth 
time  he  had  asked  her  that  question.  He  could  not  help  it. 
It  came  to  liis  lips  unhid.  And  she  gave  him  no  answer 
but  a  kiss  or  a  smile.  "  Not  even  now  ?  Not  even  since 
you  know — " 


306  JOOST   AVELINGK. 

"  Not  even  since  then,  Joost." 

"  And  we  shall  go  away,  dearest  ?  TVe  shall  try  to  get 
work  in  the  Dutch  Indies  or  America.  We  shall  be  happy 
there  together.  And  I  have  my  three  thousand  florins. 
They  will  suffice  till  I  find  something  to  do.  It  is  too  late 
to  regret  now  that  I  did  not  stick  to  my  profession." 

"  No,  Joost,  we  shall  stay  here,"  said  Agatha,  "  as  you 
said  at  first.  You  were  right.  I  would  not  tempt  you  to 
run  away.  We  shall  stay,  and  that  will  be  our  punishment ; 
we  will  bear  it  together." 

"  But  you — "  began  Joost. 

'■'- 1  shall  go  with  you  to  the  Hague  to-morrow,"  said 
Agatha  quickly.  "  You  know  you  have  promised  to  let  me 
live  as  close  to  your  heart  as  possible  in  future,  Joost ;  and 
that  is  to  be  our  great  happiness  henceforth." 

"  And  so  good-by,"  said  Joost,  with  a  long  look  at  the 
shadows  deepening  in  stately  sweeps  over  the  golden  autumn 
chestnuts,  "  good-by  to  Trotsem  Castle." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  door  was  throAvn  open,  and  Kees 
Hessel  came  rushing  in,  with  a  pale,  frightened  face. 

"  Joost "  he  cried,  "  van  Asveld  !  you  must  come  to  him 
at  once  !  He  is  dying !  You  must  come  at  once,  or  he  may 
be  dead ! " 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  asked  Joost  in  great  agitation. 
"  What  has  hapjiened,  Kees  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  said  Kees  hurriedly.  "  It  appears  that 
this  afternoon,  after  having  got  the  documents  registered,  he 
went  out  and  had  one  of  his  drinking-bouts.  In  honor  of 
the  occasion,  I  suppose.  And,  coming  home  drunk,  he 
seems  to  have  slipped  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  fallen 
headlong.  He's  injured  internally.  The  doctor  said  he 
couldn't  live  twelve  hours.  All  the  more  dangerous,  you 
know,  from  his  being  drunk  at  the  time.  And  you  are  to 
come  instantly,  Joost." 

»  Why  ?  "  said  Joost.     "  Has  he  asked  for  me  ?  " 


JOOST  MEETS  VAN  ASVELD  FOR  THE  LAST  TIME.  307 

"  He  can't  speak,  but  tliey  think  so.  He  nodded  or 
something.     And  so  they  sent  to  let  me  know." 

Joost  hurried  upstairs  to  get  his  coat,  and  Kees,  left 
alone  with  his  sister,  came  up  to  her,  trembling  with  excite- 
ment. "  Who  knows  what  change  this  may  bring,"  he  said, 
"  if  he  dies  ?    Agatha,  it  may  all  pass  by  like  a  nightmare  !  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  she  replied.  "  The  sin  remains,  and 
its  consequences  must  remain  also.  The  death  of  no  indi- 
vidual can  change  that." 

"  You  are  resolved  to  bo  beggars,"  said  Kees  testily. 
"  What  will  you  live  on  ?  You  know,  Agatha,  Papa  is  com- 
paratively a  poor  man  too,  nowadays." 

"  Joost  will  find  work,"  said  Agatha,  "  and  he  will  sup^ 
port  us.  And  oh,  Kees  " — she  blushed  shyly — "  I  must  tell 
you.  If  God  is  merciful  to  us  this  time,  there  will  be  three 
of  us  to  support." 

"  A  child !  Oh,  Agatha  !  And,  with  that  knowledge, 
you  can  defraud  the  unborn  babe  of  its  rights  !  " 

"  We  did  not  know  at  the  time,  but,  had  we  known,  what 
else  could  we  have  done,  Kees  ?  We  may  be  mistaken,  but, 
dear  boy,  we  go  wrong  in  good  faith.  And  it  seems  to  us 
there  is  no  other  course." 

"  You  are  fools,"  said  Kees  with  a  break  in  his  voice, 
"  or  innocents,  the  whole  three  of  you.  And  you  were  much 
better  in  some  other  world,  where  people  reason  as  you  do ; 
and  that's  my  opinion;  and  I  don't  know  which  is  the 
greater  fool,  Joost  or  myself.  God  bless  the  whole  lot  of 
you,  Agatha." 

Half-an-hour  later  Joost  stood  by  van  Asveld's  side. 
They  had  not  been  able  to  move  the  Jonker,  and  he  lay  as 
ho  had  fallen,  all  in  a  confused  heap,  at  the  bottom  of  a 
steep,  straight  staircase,  loading  up  from  the  shop  over  which 
he  lived.  It  was  a  poor  little  shop  with  a  sanded  floor,  tlie 
stairs  of  common  unpainted  wood ; — tlie  staircase,  often 
almost  like  a  ladder,  is  the  weak  point  iu  all  Dutch  houses, 


308  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

be  it  said.  An  oil-lamp  was  burning  with  unsteady  light 
in  the  growing  darkness.  There  was  a  strong  smell  of 
paraffin,  and,  mingled  with  this  the  fumes  of  wine  made 
themselves  plainly  manifest.  Joost  noticed  this  last  horri- 
ble item  with  a  shudder.  He  looked  at  the  doctor,  standing, 
sullen  and  useless,  against  the  wall,  at  the  landlady,  a  woman 
with  a  hard  face  and  stony,  indifferent  stare.  What  sur- 
roundings to  die  in ! 

He  knelt  by  van  Asveld's  side.  The  Jonker  groaned 
heavily  and  opened  his  eyes.  They  were  fast  glazing  over, 
but  they  brightened  with  sudden  interest  when  they  fell 
upon  Joost.  The  old  hate  had  gone  out  of  them.  He 
struggled  to  make  himself  understood  with  faint  murmurs 
and  attempts  to  move  somewhat,  but  in  vain,  and  he  was 
getting  excited  over  these  useless  efforts,  when  Kees  sud- 
denly perceived  that  he  was  endeavoring  to  reach  the  point 
of  a  piece  of  paper  which  stuck  out  of  his  coat-pocket.  Van 
Hessel  drew  it  out  at  haphazard.  He  recognized  it  at  once ; 
it  was  the  deed  of  gift.  He  held  it  before  the  dying  man ; 
and  van  Asveld's  eyes  immediately  expressed  his  satisfac- 
tion, while  he  began  to  make  fresh  signs,  which  Kees  and 
Joost,  though  this  time  they  seemed  plainer,  yet  hesitated 
to  understand. 

The  doctor  came  forward.  "  He  wants  you  to  tear  up 
that  paper,"  he  said.     "  It  is  evident." 

Joost  held  it  in  his  hand.  It  was,  as  Kees  had  said,  the 
deed  of  gift.  Kees  bent  forward.  "  Tear  it  up  ! "  he  whis- 
pered in  his  brother-in-law's  ear,  "  if  he  dies,  the  money  goes 
to  his  half-sister  in  India.     The  Notary  will  keep  our  secret." 

This  paper  was,  of  course,  only  a  copy  of  the  original 
deed,  for  the  Notary  had  the  latter  in  his  keeping,  but  Kees 
did  not  doubt  that,  now  the  secret  was  still  theirs,  the  man 
of  law,  on  the  doctor's  evidence,  would  consent  to  annul  it. 
It  may  be  questioned,  however,  whether  the  lawyer  would 
have  dared  to  do  so. 


JOOST  MEETS  VAN  ASVELU  FOR  THE  LAST  TIME.  309 

"  I  can't,"  said  Joost  in  a  low  voice.  "  And  if  I  could, 
I  wouldn't.  Once  more;  let  the  cursed  money  go,  I've 
never  wanted  it,  and  what  I  did,  I  did  not  do  for  the  money. 
I  might  have  kept  it  even  now,  only  people  would  not  have 
believed  me.     Let  it  go." 

The  dying  man,  having  rid  himself  of  the  paper,  which 
had  seemed  to  oppress  him,  appeared  to  forget  it.  He 
probably  believed  that  his  wish  with  regard  to  it  had  been 
fulfilled.  He  was  sinking  fast.  With  an  intense  effort  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  to  Joost.  Joost  took  his  hand 
and  retained  it  in  his  own.  Arthur  feebly  returned  the 
pressure,  and  when  Joost  would  have  withdrawn  his  arm,  a 
troubled  look  came  over  the  Jonker's  features.  And  so 
Joost  knelt  there,  cramped  at  the  stairfoot,  silent  and 
solemn,  with  his  hand  clasping  that  of  the  man  who  had 
hated  and  persecuted  him,  the  only  being  on  earth  toward 
whom  he  yet  felt  ill-will.  The  flickering  oil-lamp  played 
over  the  Jonker's  face.  The  doctor  and  Kees  stood  motion- 
less by  the  waiil  in  the  narrow  passage.  The  landlady  had 
withdrawn,  fretful  and  grumbling.  And  so,  with  Joost's 
face  looking  down  upon  him,  sad  and  serious  and  pitiful, 
Arthur  van  Asveld  died. 

"  And  it's  very  sad,"  said  the  landlady  querulously,  as 
she  let  the  two  gentlemen  out,  "  and  a  great  trouble  alto- 
gether, not  to  speak  of  the  damage,  with  the  doctor  locking 
the  shop-door  and  preventing  my  selling  a  thing  all  the 
evening.  It's  very  hard  on  me,  gentlemen  ;  it  is  a  consider- 
able pecuniary  loss." 

Joost  threw  a  dollar  on  the  counter  without  speaking,  as 
he  passed  out.  It  was  the  old  habit ;  he  forgot  that  dollars 
would  be  precious  with  him  henceforth. 


310  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

CHAPTER  XL. 

THE   CONFESSION. 

The  members  of  the  Second  Chamber  of  the  States  Gen- 
eral were  settling  down  in  their  places ;  some  eighty  gentle- 
men of  various  ages,  the  grizzly  predominating,  with  here 
and  there  a  shining  bald  crown  or  a  head  of  yellow  curls, 
all  uncovered  according  to  the  inviolable  foreign  rule.  The 
hall  was  like  any  other  similar  council-chamber,  only  smaller 
than  most,  well  fitted  for  the  purpose  it  was  intended  to 
serve,  with  a  number  of  seats  on  both  sides  of  a  green  cov- 
ered table,  retained  for  the  ministers,  and  the  President's 
chair  facing  the  throne.  Everything  as  simple  as  possible, 
perhaps  a  little  too  simple,  some  might  think  ;  no  robes  or 
or  wigs,  or  maces  of  any  kind,  very  unlike  the  British  House 
of  Commons,  but  not  different  from  the  parliament  cham- 
ber of  any  other  small  European  state.  Grave,  solemn,  or- 
derly, decorous  ;  none  of  the  turmoil  Englishmen  have 
grown  accustomed  to.  A  certain  impressiveness  in  the  very 
simplicity  and  repose.  There  are  never  recriminations  or 
personalities,  or  unpleasantnesses  of  any  kind  in  the  Dutch 
House  of  Commons.  There  is  no  Irish  question  to  produce 
them.  There  is  never  an  "  Incident."  And  the  Dutch, 
cool,  phlegmatic,  fish-blooded,  as  unlike  the  French  or  Irish 
as  it  is  possible  for  one  human  being  to  be  unlike  another, 
live  under  the  unadmitted  impression,  most  certainly  an 
erroneous  one,  that  the  man  who  expresses  himself  forcibly 
or  enthusiastically  must  naturally  be  in  the  wrong.  And  so 
the  tide  of  parliamentary  eloquence  flows  on  without  a  rip- 
ple, for  a  ripple  in  that  quiet  country  would  be  marked  with 
a  danger-buoy  at  once. 

The  galleries  were  filling — not  an  event  of  daily  occur- 
rence. A  good  deal  of  curiosity  was  being  manifested  in 
the  country  about  the  new  Deputy,  as  well  on  account  of  his 


THE  CONFESSION.  311 

past  history  as,  more  especially,  on  account  of  the  circum- 
stances under  which  he  had  been  elected.  People  in  the 
Hague  were  anxious  to  have  a  look  at  him.  It  was  reported 
that  he  was  handsome ;  he  was  certainly  interesting,  he  was 
wealthy  ;  he  had  passed  through  a  trial  for  murder  and  been 
acquitted,  he  had  been  nominated  in  a  public  meeting  by  the 
people — the  populace,  they  said  in  the  Hague — without  the 
interference  of  any  political  club,  a  dangerous  jirecedent, 
but  an  incident  which  showed  the  man's  great  popularity  in 
his  part  of  the  country.  A  popularity  actually  gained,  as  it 
appeared,  not  by  speechifying,  but  by  spending  his  money 
for  the  benefit  of  others.  Very  extraordinary.  So  society 
sent  some  of  its  members  to  criticise  Joost  Avelingh.  It 
was  quite  worth  while  wasting  an  hour  of  the  afternoon  to 
see  him  take  his  seat. 

The  galleries,  then,  were  soon  filled  to  overflowing.  The 
ministers  drew  up  their  arm-chairs  to  the  table,  and,  bend- 
ing over  to  each  other,  whispered  about  public  business. 
The  President;  an  old  gentleman  of  reverend  aspect,  looked 
about  him  inquiringly,  up  at  the  galleries,  down  at  the 
Deputies.  "  Eight,"  and  "  Left  "  dropped  on  to  their  re- 
spective benches.  Bits  of  conversation  here  and  there  flick- 
ered and  went  out.  A  great  silence  fell  upon  the  assembly. 
The  President  opened  the  session.  The  business  of  the  day 
began. 

Joost  had  been  greeted  with  a  cheer  by  the  small  crowd 
outside,  as  he  drove  up  in  a  cab — from  the  station — with  his 
wife  by  his  side.  lie  entered  the  building  alone.  The  loiter- 
ers evidently  approved  of  his  bearing  and  general  appear- 
ance. They  clieercd  him  again.  He  raised  his  hat  slightly 
in  re[)ly.  It  was  the  last  time  the  world  cheered  Joost  Ave- 
lingh. 

In  the  House  itself  his  appearance  created  no  enthusi- 
asm. Bcjtli  parties  considered  him  more  or  less  as  an  intruder. 
He  had  been  forced  u[)on  tliem.    It  was  not  desirable — from 


312  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

the  point  of  view  of  party  politics — tliat  the  electors  should 
get  into  the  way  of  sending  np  independent  representatives. 
The  whole  system  of  parliamentary  government  on  which 
modern  prosperity  hinges  would  become  impossible  if  such 
an  excei^tion  were  to  develop  into  the  rule. 

The  President — specially  deputed  to  do  so  in  this  case 
by  royal  authority — called  upon  the  new  member  to  take  the 
Oath  of  Allegiance.  Joost  Avelingh  stepped  forward,  but 
before  he  proceeded  to  do  as  was  expected  of  him,  he  asked 
permission  to  make  a  personal  statement.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation.  The  request  was  altogether  an  unex- 
pected one.  The  President,  though  he  felt  it  his  duty  to 
rule  it  out  of  order,  shrank  from  doing  so  immediately. 
Joost  took  advantage  of  the  delay  and  began  speaking. 

"  Mynheer  the  President,"  he  said,  standing  out,  straight 
and  stalwart,  the  black  hair  thrown  back  from  his  brow,  "  I 
claim  your  permission,  as  I  said,  to  make  what  I  have  called 
a  personal  statement.  It  may  be  unusual  to  do  so  ;  I  have 
no  doubt  that  in  so  young  and  so  new  a  member  it  will  be 
considered  presumptuous.  I  must  beg  of  your  charity  to 
allow  me  to  have  my  own  way  for  a  moment.  I  shall  take 
up  as  little  as  possible  of  the  time  this  assembly  owes  to  the 
country. 

"  But  I  also.  Mynheer  the  President,  consider  that  I  owe 
something  to  the  country ;  I  owe  it  this  statement.  I  owe 
such  explanations  as  I  am  desirous  of  giving,  to  your  august 
chamber,  to  Avhich  I  have  had  the  honor  of  being  called ;  to 
the  electors  who  did  me  that  honor — an  illustrious  one  as  I 
am  only  too  deeply  conscious — ;  to  the  country  at  large, 
which  is  witness  of  my  election.  When  I  first  found  myself 
designated  as  representative  of  the  people,  I  accepted  the 
position  which  was  offered  me.  If  my  projects  have  changed 
since  then,  I  owe  it  to  myself  and  to  all  men  concerned,  to  ex- 
plain them.  It  is  therefore  I  have  considered  it  my  duty  not 
to  withdraw  in  private  but  publicly  to  explain  my  action  here." 


THE  CONFESSION.  313 

He  stopped  to  draw  breath.  A  faint  mnrmiir  ran 
through  the  house.  Curiosity  was  visible  on  all  tlie  faces 
turned  toward  him,  curiosity  and  astonisliment,  not  too 
benevolent,  a  general  expectation — and  dislike — of  some 
approaching  "  scene." 

"  I  was  accused,"  Joost  went  on,  "  as  all  will  remember, 
in  the  course  of  tlie  spring  of  this  year,  of  the  murder  of  my 
uncle.  Van  Trotsem.  I  was  brought  to  trial,  and  first  con- 
demned, then  acquitted.  The  case  came  on  ultimately  in 
the  Court  of  Appeal,  and  that  Supreme  Court  decided  that 
I  was  innocent  of  all  instrumentality  in  the  death  of  my 
uncle.     It  decided  wrongly.     I  was  guilty." 

He  uttered  the  last  words  very  softly.  His  head  sank  on 
his  breast.  But  the  next  moment  he  lifted  it  up  again  with 
a  proud  movement,  and  spoke  in  the  same  clear  voice  he 
had  used  at  first.  When  his  confession  left  his  lips,  a  thrill 
struck  through  the  ranks  of  his  hearers ;  it  was  not  an  ex- 
pression of  kindly  sentiment.  There  was  the  same  curiosity 
as  before,  bulTno  sympathy  with  the  speaker.  And  among 
his  brother-members  many  a  thin  lip  curled  up  with  a  smile 
of  half-skeptical  contempt. 

"  I  was  guilty,"  said  Joost,  "  but  not  as  the  world  counts 
guilt.  Do  you  care  to  hear  the  story  ?  I  owe  it,  as  I  said 
at  first,  to  you,  and  still  more  to  the  men  who  gave  me  their 
votes.  When  I  drove  by  my  uncle's  side  on  that  terrible 
evening,  there  was  rage  and  hate  and  disappointment  un- 
controllable in  my  heart.  I  hated  him — never  mind  now 
whether  rightly  or  wrongly;  I  believed,  oh  so  rightly — I 
hated  him,  as  few  men  ever  learn  to  hate  a  fellow-being  ;  I 
hated  him  for  all  the  misery  of  a  lifetime  laid  at  his  door. 
It  matters  not  that  now  I  know  I  wronged  him — at  least,  in 
part,  the  greater  part, — that  now  I  perceive  how  much  of 
what  I  accused  him  of  was  false,  and  understand  that  he 
strove  according  to  his  lights — his  weak  and  misleading 
lights — to  do  his  duty  by  me.     I  owe  it  to  his  memory  to 


31  J:  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

declare  that  publicy,  but  none-the-less,  as  I  sat  by  his  side 
that  evening,  I  hated  him,  not  without  full  cause. 

"  At  the  time  of  his  death  my  uncle,  as  was  shown  dur- 
ing the  trial,  was  driving  to  the  village-notary  to  alter  his 
will.  It  was  not  his  intention  simjjly  to  disinherit  me — 
that  would,  I  may  truthfully  say,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances have  left  me  more  indifferent  than  most  men,  but  it 
was  his  intention  deliberately  so  to  word  his  dispositions 
that  my  marriage  with  the  woman  I  had  chosen  for  my 
wife  should  become  forever  impossible,  unless  she  married, 
as  I  knew  she  never  would,  in  deliberate  defiance  of  her 
father.  I  knew,  as  I  sat  there  beside  him,  that  I  was  hur- 
rying on — every  ring  of  the  horse's  hoofs  bringing  me  near- 
er—to the  ruin  of  my  new-found  happiness.  And  I  owed 
my  life-long  wretchedness  in  the  past,  in  the  present,  and 
now  in  all  the  future,  to  the  meaningless,  cowardly  cruelty, 
as  I  thought,  of  the  man  at  my  side. 

"  But  before  Ave  reached  our  destination,  my  uncle,  who 
had  been  ailing  all  the  evening,  and  of  the  precarious  state 
of  whose  health  I  was  well  aware,  fell  back  in  a  fit.  What 
thoughts  rushed  through  my  brain  in  those  few  terrible  mo- 
ments I  could  never  clearly  recall.  But  one  thing  I  can  attest 
before  Heaven,  I  did  not  think  of  the  miserable  man's  gold. 
I  thought  of  my  love,  of  the  will  lying  uncanceled,  of  the 
wrongs  of  the  past,  of  the  great  wrong  still  undone.  It 
seemed  to  me  as  if  God  intervened  on  my  behalf  and  struck 
down  this  persecutor  in  the  way.  I  drove  on.  I  had 
studied  medicine,  I  knew  that  immediate  help  was  often  de- 
cisive in  these  circumstances.  I  believe  I  realized  that  at 
the  moment.  I  looked  neither  to  right  nor  left,  but  drove 
on.  I  could  nut  stretch  out  my  hand  to  assist  this  man.  I 
could  not  have  stretched  it  out  to  hurt  him.  Yet  I  heard 
him  gasp  out,  as  he  fell  back, — once, — twice  :  '  Stop  ! '  I 
heard  him.     The  words  have  rung  in  my  ears  ever  since. 

"  I  drove  on  as  fast  as  the  horse  could  tear  forward.     I 


THE  CONFESSION.  315 

felt  that  tlie  sooner  we  reached  the  yiHage  the  sooner  other 
help  would  be  forthcoming,  and  the  sooner  the  agony  of  my 
struggle  would  cease.  I  hoped,  I  yearned  that  such  help 
might  save  him.  But  I  could  not,  once  more,  I  could  not 
stretch  out  my  own  hand  to  the  work. 

"  I  did  not  see  him  touch  his  neckerchief.  I  saw  noth- 
ing ;  I  heard  nothing  after  that  first  despairing  cry.  I  was 
blinded,  maddened  by  the  hope,  the  fear,  the  doubt  the  hate, 
the  terror  within  me.  I  desired  but  one  thing,  to  reach  the 
village,  and  let  it  end. 

"  So  much  I  have  to  confess,  and  no  more.  I  am  told 
that  even  if  I  had  stopj^ed  the  chaise  and  given  my  uncle 
such  assistance  as  I  could,  he  would  probably  have  died  from 
the  attack  which  struck  him  down.  I  willingly  believe  it.  I 
have  told  myself  so,  often  and  often  again.  It  appears 
probable.     It  will  never  be  certain  on  earth. 

"  x\nd  for  me  remains  that  unanswered  appeal ;  it  will 
remain  till  my  death.  There  remains  the  knowledge  that  I 
desired  this  "Mian's  destruction,  and  that  if  Christ's  teaching 
means  anything  I  am  a  murderer  at  heart.  Many  hundreds 
who  hear  my  story,  and  to  whom  Christ's  teaching  means 
nothing,  will  laugh  at  my  sufferings.  Those  who  can  meas- 
ure crime  only  by  the  damage  it  does  others,  and  not  by  the 
ruin  it  brings  upon  ourselves,  will  bid  me  take  heart  and  be 
merry,  or  laugh  at  me  for  a  fool.  But  I  know,  and  many, 
I  rejoice  to  think,  despite  the  sadness  of  the  thought,  many 
will  know  with  me  that  Christ  has  told  men  truly,  that  sin 
is  a  thing  of  the  thought,  not  the  deed.  And  I  must  bear  my 
burden.  I  used  to  think,  that  if  I  could  obtain  an  affirma- 
tion to  the  question  whether  tlic  dead  man  would  liave  died, 
even  though  I  liad  cliecked  my  course  and  helped  hiiu,  this 
cloud  of  accusation  Avould  roll  from  me.  I  would  give  my 
life  to  obtain  such  an  answer,  hut  I  thank  God  that  it  would 
not  fully  content  me  now. 

"  "Why  I  have  waited  to  speak  till  now,  and  why  I  speak 


316  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

at  this  moment — I  am  willing  to  tell  it  to  whoso  cares  to 
hear,  but  this  is  not  the  time  nor  the  place  for  further  con- 
fession. The  gradual  enlightenment  of  a  soul  is  too  long 
and  too  strange  a  story  for  these  walls.  Suffice  it  that  I  con- 
fess the  measure  of  my  guilt.  I  confess  no  more.  The  law 
can  not  touch  mo  ;  and,  when  it  sought  to  do  so,  I  defended 
myself  against  false  accusation,  as  each  man  has  a  right  to 
do.  But  such  accusation  as  is  my  due  I  now  bring  against 
myself.  One  thing  more !  I  might,  perchance,  have  re- 
tained the  money  I  inherited  from  the  Baron  van  Trotsem ; 
I  have  resolved  not  to  do  so.  First,  because  otherwise  my 
confession — as  the  judgment  of  men  is  wont  to  go — would 
have  lost  more  than  half  its  meaning ;  and  secondly,  be- 
cause I  wish,  as  far  as  possible,  to  annul  all  advantages 
which  have  accrued  to  me  from  my  uncle's  death.  I  can 
not  annul  my  marriage.  Besides,  it  may  yet  be  asked, 
whether  circumstances  might  not,  after  all,  have  made  that 
marriage  possible.  But  it  is  certain,  at  least  to  my  mind, 
knowing  my  uncle  as  I  did,  and  knowing  also  his  reasons 
for  acting,  that  he  would  not  have  changed  his  views  of  it. 
I  can  not,  therefore,  retain  both  my  wife  and  my  money, 
for  the  possession  of  both  together  is — may  be — the  result 
of  my  sin.  I  let  the  money  go  without  regret.  I  thank 
God  I  can  say  that,  and  cling  the  closer  to  the  great  treasure 
he  leaves  me.  A  succession  of  considerations  and  discov- 
eries, of  no  importance  here,  have  taught  me  to  realize  late- 
ly, more  than  ever,  that  the  money  is  not  rightly  mine. 

"  And  now,  Mynheer  the  President,  I  must  thank  you 
and  this  honorable  assembly  for  having  borne  with  me  so 
long.  You  have  thereby  enabled  me  to  explain,  as  far  as  I 
am  able,  the  motives  which  actuate  me  in  withdrawing  from 
this  Chamber.  It  is  not  risfht  that  a  man  with  such  a  con- 
fession  on  his  heart  should  sit  in  your  midst.  And  I  wish 
to  tell  those  who  have  contributed  to  do  me  this  honor,  that 
not  the  least  part  of  my  punishment  is  the  knowledge  that 


THE  WORLD'S  FAREWELL  TO  JOOST  AVELINGH.  317 

I  have  closed  to  myself  a  sphere  of  usefulness  in  which  I 
should  have  been  proud  to  work  with  all  my  strength.  Yet 
it  is  right  that  it  should  be  so.  God  has  forgiven  mc.  ]5ut 
I  can  not  forgive  myself." 

He  ceased  speaking.  All  those  faces  were  still  turned 
toward  him,  still  curious,  doubtful,  smiling.  There  was  a 
dead,  cold  silence  ;  and  in  the  silence  Joost  Avelingh 
stepped  down,  with  head  erect,  and  face  firm-set  and  sad, 
and  walked  across  the  floor  and  out  at  the  great  doorway  of 
the  House. 

Outside,  at  a  side  entrance,  in  the  deserted  street,  the  cab 
was  waiting  with  Agatha  in  it.  He  got  into  it,  and  they 
drove  away  to  the  station,  and  reached  their  modest  lodg- 
ings as  the  autumn  twilight  fell,  cold  and  gray,  upon  the 
dying  leaves. 

And  that  evening  Agatha  made  tea  for  her  husband 
with  the  silver  tea-things  she  had  brought  away  with  her 
from  the  CdStle.  They  were  comfortable  and  cosy  by  the 
lodging-house  fire.  Joost  read  "  Faust "  to  her,  as  slie  sat 
at  work  on  one  of  the  first  articles  of  what  was  to  be  a  very 
modest  home-made  layette.  And,  half-way  in  the  great 
Cathedral-scene,  he  suddenly  broke  down  and  bent  forward 
his  face  over  the  book  with  a  burst  of  happy,  though  regret- 
ful tears. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE   world's   farewell   TO    JOOST    AVELINGH, 

People  speak  variously  of  Joost  Avelingh,  but  as  a  rule 
he  is  treated  either  with  anger  or  with  contempt.  In  his 
own  class  especially  the  feeling  is  very  strong  against  him. 


318  JOOST  AVELINGH. 

One  half  of  society  abuses  him  for  not  having  spoken  sooner ; 
the  other  desiDises  him  for  having  spoken  at  all.  The  half 
which  takes  his  confessions  seriously  is  horrified  at  the 
thought  of  the  countenance  it  gave  to  a  murderer.  It 
trembles  to  think  of  the  wickedness  of  a  man  who  could  do 
such  a  deed  of  villainy  and  then  quietly  enjoy  its  fruits 
during  a  dozen  long  guilty  years.  It  understands— only  too 
well — that  he  was  forced  to  break  the  silence  at  last,  un- 
willingly,  no  doubt,  and  half-heartedly,  but  compelled  by  con- 
science to  speak  at  last.  It  does  not  believe  Joost's  descrip- 
tion of  what  it  invariably  alludes  to  as  "  the  murder."  And 
it  saj^s  that  some  day  the  wretched  man  will  complete  his 
story  and  confess  his  whole  crime  exactly  as  he  committed 
it.  For  conscience,  when  it  once  seizes  upon  a  criminal, 
will  not  let  him  rest  till  it  has  avenged  society  (and  saved 
the  criminal's  soul),  and  this  man  certainly  has  a  conscience ; 
he  may  be  thankful  for  that.  And  the  proper,  orthodox, 
respectable  people,  who  are  better  than  their  neighbors  and 
know  it,  hope  that  Joost  will  still  some  day  listen  to  the 
warning  voice  within  him  which  has  already  brought  him 
so  far.  But  in  the  mean  time,  while  he  persists  in  denying 
his  guilt,  they  can  hold  no  intercourse  with  him. 

The  other  half,  the  people  who  lived  lightly  and  would 
let  others  live  lightly  too,  are  not  so  especially  angry  with 
Joost,  but  they  speak  of  him  with  good-humored  scorn. 
"  He  should  have  let  well  alone,"  they  think.  Many  of  them, 
also  have  a  lurking  suspicion  that  Jan  Lorentz's  first  evi- 
dence unconsciously  gave  the  true  account  of  the  story  :  and 
that  the  only  mistake  was  about  Lorentz  having  seen  or  not 
seen  what  occurred.  "  Well  then  Avelingh  was  a  lucky  man, 
and  had  a  lucky  escape,  that  is  all.  He  should  have  known 
it  and  kept  a  quiet  tongue  in  his  head.  As  for  associating 
with  a  man  who  owns  to  such  an  ugly  blot  on  his  history, 
impossible,  not  to  be  thought  of,  altogether  absurd  !  "  And 
even  those  who  gave  him  the  full  benefit  of  the  doubt  agree 


THE  WORLD'S  FAREWELL  TO  JOOST  AVELINGH.  319 

in  condemning  the  extravagant "  scene  "  which  he  "  got  up  " 
in  the  Chamber.  The  Legislative  Assembly  is  not  a  theatre, 
they  say. 

"  But  Avelingh  was  always  so  melodramatic,"  complains 
Burgomaster  van  Hessel.  The  Burgomaster  laments  over 
his  own  misfortunes  and  bitterly  abuses  his  son-in-law.  He 
was  furious  with  him  at  first,  and  refused  to  have  anything 
to  say  to  him ;  he  even  attacked  Kees  most  vehemently  for 
having  abetted  him  in  the  past,  and  for  seeking  to  stand  up 
for  him  now.  Mevrouw  van  Hessel  was  obliged  to  make  use 
of  all  her  influence  to  patch  matters  up  as  best  she  was  able. 
"  He  has  gone  mad,"  said  the  Burgomaster  at  last,  with  a 
sigh  of  acquiescence.  "  Yes,  send  for  him,  and  I  can  tell 
him  so.  Quern  perdere  vult  Deus^  you  know — and  he  cer- 
tainly talks  very  piously — prius  dementat.'''' 

Joost  lives  with  his  wife  and  a  little  son  of  some  six 
months  or  so  in  tiny  lodgings  at  Heist.  Some  few  people 
take  his  view  of  his  duty  and  his  efforts  to  do  it,  and  among 
them  is  the'Village  Notary,  who  has  taken  him  into  his  employ 
as  a  clerk,  and  at  present  he  earns  eighty  pounds  a  year  in 
this  manner.  But  better  times  are  coming,  for  a  gentleman 
of  Amsterdam  who  took  a  great  interest  in  the  case,  and  who 
appreciates  the  advantage  of  having  a  perfectly  trustworthy 
man  in  his  office,  hopes  soon  to  find  work  for  him  there  at 
a  salary  of  £250  a  year.  Joost  and  Agatha  are  to  go  up 
to  the  capital  next  autumn.  They  will  not  be  sorry  to  leave 
Heist,  although  they  have  bravely  borne  the  brunt  of  pub- 
lic condemnation  there  as  long  as  it  seemed  unavoidable. 
Even  in  Amsterdam  their  story  will  pursue  them  wherever 
they  go ;  but  they  will  not  go  to  many  places  outside  their 
quiet  little  home,  and  they  will  soon  slip  out  of  sight — as  they 
hope  to  do — in  the  crowd  of  the  great  city. 

Among  the  multitude,  which  once  lifted  his  name  to  the 
skies,  the  report  has  got  current,  somehow  or  otlicr,  tliafc 
Joost  is  a  murderer.     This  being  so,  no  one  can  understand 


820  JOOST  AYELINGH> 

that  tlie  police  do  not  arrest  liim,  and  a  great  deal  of  ill-will 
is  felt  against  the  authorities  in  consequence.  One  or  two 
radical  newspapers — not  over-scrupulous  about  the  means 
they  employ — persistently  hold  up  his  case  in  the  eyes  of  the 
populace  as  a  proof  that  justice  only  strikes  down  the  poor 
man,  and  lets  the  gentleman  go  unhurt. 

And  so  the  world  judges  the  sin  of  Joost  Avelingh.  And 
he,  remembering  the  Apostolic  "  if  we  would  but  judge  our- 
selves," cares  neither  for  its  present  injustice  nor  for  its  past 
approval;  cares  not  more,  at  least,  than  it  is  in  human  flesh 
to  care.  For  a  warm  affectionate  human  nature  as  his,  can 
not  see  slip  away  from  it  love,  admiration,  honor,  so  much  that 
makes  life  sweet,  without  regretting  them.  Yet  he  knows 
that  he  did  not  see  them  slip  away,  but  willingly  gave 
them  up.  And  he  still  thinks  he  did  right.  He  loves 
his  wife  and  child  the  more  dearly :  he  trusts  God  the 
more  closely.     And  his  heart  is  at  rest. 


THE    END. 


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